Dragon He Saved
by slyprentice
Summary: Harry Potter has one chance to save the only thing he ever wanted. Draco/Harry. Repost.
1. Prologue

**Title**: Dragon He Saved  
**Author**: Prentice  
**Rating**: NC17; FRAO (Fan Rated Adults Only)  
**Pairing**: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy  
**Spoilers**: Books 1-4. Everything else is ignored.  
**Category**: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Drama  
**Series**: Yes. DHS.  
**Archive**: Ask first, please.  
**Feedback**: Is always cherished and appreciated.  
**Disclaimer**: The names of all characters contained here-in, are the property of J.K. Rowling, the WB, Bloomburg books and etc. No infringements of these copyrights are intended, and are being used here without permission. No profit was made and no harm was done.

**Story Notes**: This story is one of my firsts and so it is slightly silly. My best advice would be to completely suspend your beliefs and just go with the flow. You'll enjoy yourself so much more if you do.

**Author's** **Note**: Some of you may remember this story from way (way) back when. It hasn't been on in, quite literally, years. It was my first Harry Potter fan fiction, much less my first slash fan fiction, and was (sadly) deleted off the site a few years ago during the 'great purge', in which tons of author's lost all their stories. Well, it's back. I haven't changed a single line of the story, much less rewritten it, but after digging through some old files, I thought I'd dust if off and finish the damn thing! Enjoy! 

**Summary**: Harry has one chance to save the only thing he ever wanted.

--

**Prologue**

Harry Potter had always been different. Not just because he lived most of his childhood in the cupboard under the stairs at No. 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. Nor was it because his hair could be cut and then grow back to its natural shaggy length in just a few hours. Or that he had an innate talent of always ending up being at the entirely wrong place at the entirely wrong time.

No, he was far more different than that. Far more _important_ than that.

You see, Harry Potter was and is a wizard. And not just a normal run-of-the-mill wizard that you might see strolling down Diagon Alley or one of those you might see in a low budget film wearing a cap and trying to take over the world. No, as has been said, Harry Potter was different and that didn't just apply to the muggle world you may now live in. It applied everywhere.

If there are those who don't believe this then here are a few details about our wonderful Mister Potter: at age one he defeated the dark lord Voldemort without the slightest inkling that he had. At age eleven, after receiving his acceptance letter from Hogwarts, finding out he was a wizard _and _finding out that Voldemort was gaining power; he helped defeat one of the Dark Lord's many minions thereby protecting the school, it's students, the staff and his friends.

At age twelve he faced Tom Riddle, Voldemort's younger self, and a voracious basilisk that almost killed, not only himself, but young Ginny Weasley, youngest sibling and only sister to Harry's best friend, Ronald Weasley.

At age thirteen, he was lead to believe that a man named Sirius Black wanted to kill him, though he found out later this was his godfather; dementors that made him go into a shock that allowed him to hear his parents being murdered by the dark lord. Though with the help of Remus Lupin, Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, he learned how to overcome the effects.

At age fourteen...

Well, is there a reason to go on? If you don't believe the facts now then there is very little reason to believe you will believe them later. Which in itself could be pose a problem. If you don't believe he's...unique...in some way then you will never believe the tale about to be told...

Ah well, I suppose there is nothing to be done about that. If you don't believe, I suggest you go somewhere else. Yes, yes that would be a good idea. Go somewhere else and read about some other wizard that is just normal or go watch a low budget film at the cinema.

As for the believers, relax and be prepared for the tale of Harry Potter and the Dragon He Saved.


	2. Chapter 1

Please read the prologue for summary and disclaimer.

--

**Chapter 1**

_You're still here then? Good, good._

_There couldn't be a better audience for this tale._

_But that aside, I had better get on with it, don't you think? I'm sure you're dying from curiosity and I really wouldn't want that. Oh no, Poppy would have a fit if I sent her another person whom...well...well that's not important right now._

_Ahem. On to Harry - where was I? Oh yes, now I remember. This tale is going to be told as if we were still there, in that time in which it happened. Actually...better yet, I think I should just show you. Yes, yes that's the ticket. I'll show you and pop in with narrative when necessary. What a splendid idea. I wonder why I never thought of this before..._

_But, before we start, would you care for a lemon drop? I do love them. They are my favorites, even after all this time._

_No?_

_Well, I can't tempt everyone. But, on with the show..._

--

**Late Summer**

**Dursleys Smallest Bedroom**

**No. 4 Privet Drive**

The sun was just cresting over the trees to touch the roof of number four Privet Drive when the first signs of something being very wrong began to show. It wasn't a one thing that would tip a passer-by off that something wasn't quite right. It was a collective number of things. But fortunately for Harry Potter, it was far to early for anyone, including his Aunt and Uncle, to be awake and to notice.

When Harry woke that morning he knew something was wrong. Not just because he had woken up before the sunrise, which really wasn't an odd occurrence, but because his scar was tingling. Not burning like it would when Voldemort was up to no good but a gentle tingle. Almost as if electricity was massaging it or someone was touching it feather-light. Which was an experience that this particular young man had never in all his years of life had felt so it was indeed enough to make him jerk awake and clamp a hand over his forehead.

Looking around wearily to make sure it wasn't his cousin playing a nasty joke, Harry slide his legs from beneath the horridly thin sheets then up and over the side of his bed to sit up. Pulling himself into a sitting position, Harry gasped as the movement caused a sudden increased jolt in 

the feeling that, for a moment, overwhelmed his sleep fogged mind before subsiding. Even with the icy cold floor touching his feet, he found he could concentrate on nothing else beyond that prickly feeling buzzing up and down the lightening bolt scar that adorned his forehead. But all to soon the feeling began to fade as he pressed hesitant fingers against his scar.

Beams of sunlight began to seep through the tattered remains of what used to be curtains as Harry traced the feeling away. He wasn't sure why but the feeling was disturbing in a way that he couldn't explain. It wasn't as if it were the first time his scar had given him a twinge; especially during this particular summer. Ever since Harry had come back to the Dursley's after his fifth year at Hogwarts, his scar had burned at least a hundred times. And with each burn, Harry had simply rolled over in bed, written a quick note to Professor Dumbledore then rolled back over and went to sleep. It was a common occurrence. It was normal. Every day.

But this tingling had never happened before. No sensation other than the familiar burn of pain could he associate with his scar. Perhaps that was why it was so disconcerting. But even so, he knew that it shouldn't bother him as much as it was now.

Letting his hand drop back down to his side, Harry reached out for his glasses, opting for these over the contact lenses he had gotten the summer before. Sliding the wire black frames onto his nose, Harry indulged in a fully body stretch to try to clear his muddled mind of the shivery sensation that was threatening. It would do him no good to try to catalog this feeling away when so much of his life was stored in the 'haven't yet figured out' section of his mind.

"Time to get up, Hedwig" Harry mumbled, noticing for the first time that his snowy white owl was looking at him worriedly. A soft hoot was his only answer.

For a split second, Harry entertained the thought of crawling back beneath his flimsy albeit warm sheets and going back to sleep. But the thought passed as quickly as it came. Sleep was out of the question now.

Propelling himself in to motion, the boy scuttled about the room pulling out all the necessary items to freshen up as well as a fresh set of clothes. Popping his toothbrush into his mouth for safe keeping (the Dursley's never allowed Harry to keep his personal affects anywhere other than his room) he made his way over to Hedwig's cage and flipped the door open. Ruffling her feathers a bit, he then moved to the window and slide it open so that she could fly outside at her leisure.

This was one of the small allowances that made getting up early a treat. Despite the ever hanging threat from his uncle, Harry didn't have the heart to not allow his owl some freedom. So, on days like these when he awoke much earlier than the rest of the household, he would let her out of her cage to go do what she pleased.

Sighing, he secured the latch on the window, pressing a short wooden stick he had collected into the frame so that the window wouldn't suddenly slam itself shut. Which it had started to do more frequently now and Harry knew there was no hope of his uncle fixing it. The thought was laughable.

"Bugger." Harry muttered as he pinched his finger between the glass and the frame. Shaking his hand, he began to turn but before he had taken a step, a sight greeted him that he would never soon forget...

"Malfoy?!" Harry hissed incredulously, his toothbrush clattering out of his mouth to land with a tap onto the floor. For an instant, he stood looking in disbelief at the huddled figure below before throwing his change of clothes onto his unmade bed and spinning on his heels.

The tingling of his scar was pushed to the back of his mind as Harry all but fly out the door of his room, uncaring if his uncle, aunt or cousin awoke because of it.


	3. Chapter 2

Story Note: /blah/ indicates thoughts.

--

**Chapter 2**

Harry's mind was so tangled in the imagine of Draco Malfoy slumped down in a huddle that he didn't realize that he was half-dressed in only an old pair of his cousin Dudley's sweat pants. He had yet to be presented with a chance to buy normal muggle clothing that might actually fit him. Not with his aunt and uncle practically imprisoning him inside the smallest bedroom and keeping such a close watch on him in hopes that he would do something so that they could throw him out.

Upon reaching the landing, after jumping the stair that creaked, Harry retained enough self-preservation to try to open the door with minimal fuss as possible. But as usual, that wasn't a reasonable request.

Because of the unusual circumstances surrounding...Harry...Uncle Vernon had installed two double set locks and a very expensive albeit useless alarm system. Instead of a quick-easy way of opening the door, you now had to jiggle both double locks a certain way so they would pop open and then enter a ridiculously long pass code into the alarm system before you could even think about opening the door.

That didn't deter Harry's curiosity or growing anger, however. Yes, anger was a good word for what he was starting to feel. How dare Draco! How dare him for somehow coming here and...and...doing whatever it was that he was doing! This was Harry's home away from home. Admittedly it wasn't a great one...it wasn't even an okay one but none-the-less it was all Harry had till he was old enough to get out of it.

"Finally!" Harry breathed as the alarm gave a tweet to signal it was no longer armed. How Harry wished he could have just used a little magic on the damn thing...

"What the bloomin' hell are you doing here?" Harry ground out as he stepped into the early morning dew of light. The chilly moistened air swirled over his bare chest and arms forcing a shiver out, which in turn only fueled his anger. "Well?! What are you doing here, Malfoy?"

"B-b-bugger off P-p-potter." Was the only reply. Harry grimaced in distaste and took a step further out the door, making sure to keep one hand braced against the door so it wouldn't shut behind him and wake the entire house.

"Damnit Malfoy, I'm in no bloody mood for your..." Harry's voice faded off into a gasp as another twinge of electricity skittered across his scar. Reaching up, he pressed the heel of his palm to it, trying his best to will away the feeling.

/'I can't feel this. Not with Malfoy around. It feels...good...Oh Merlin, please make this stop just until I can get this bloody git away.' / Harry pleaded. But despite his mental plea, the feeling 

persisted. Gritting his teeth, Harry forced his hands to his side as he focused on Malfoy's back. / 'He probably thinks he's too good to look at me. Git.' /

"Malfoy..." He began again but Draco cut him off.

"I s-said b-bugger OFF, P-p-potter!" Draco growled weakly, huddling into himself more as he scooted a few inches closer to the gutter.

"Excuse _me_, Malfoy. But you _are_ the one sitting outside _my_house." Harry spat, unconsciously rubbing his fingertips up and down his scar once again chasing the little shocks.

"P-p-potter! I..." But Draco never finished as his body suddenly went completely still. And with that, Harry watched in shocked-bewilderment, as Draco Malfoy fainted.


	4. Chapter 3

Story Note: /blah/ indicates thoughts.

--

**Chapter 3**

For a few moments, Harry could do nothing but stare at the slumped unconscious figure that now laid a mere foot-length away from the gutter. What was he suppose to do?

/I should just leave the slimy git there and hope that the garbage trolley comes by.../ He thought distastefully. But even with that delightful thought in mind, Harry turned and placed a slant block-stopper in between the door and the doorway to keep it open enough so he wouldn't have to worry. Not that it would help if his Uncle woke up...

/No use worrying about that./ Harry thought with a sigh. Uncle Vernon had threatened him time and time again that if Harry did anything strange or was involved in anything strange he would kick him out the house the first chance he got. Not that Harry would really mind since his number one fantasy was to get out of this Merlin forsaken hovel.

With a deep breath to steel his rolling emotions, Harry moved determinedly across the small lawn to the other boy's slumped figure. /He looks too thin.../ He mused as he drew closer. And it was true. Draco's lanky frame no longer was the lean specimen that Harry once remembered battling him on the quidditch pitch. No, in fact...

"Oh my god..." Harry breathed as he saw for the first time the state that Draco was in. Under the scraggily gray rob ,which Harry had just realized the boy had been huddled in, was a sight that he knew would haunt his dreams for many days to come. Instead of the crisp clean robes and shinning boots that Draco usually wore was a slightly shredded black tee shirt, tattered blue jeans that had, if Harry was correct, flecks of blood staining them and instead of any form of shoe, Draco's feet were bare and exposed to the chilly air. Already the flesh looked an unhealthy blue color where large split blisters weren't already raw and seeping.

/My god what happened to you?/ Harry wondered as he crouched down heavily on his knees so he could place a trembling hand on Draco's arm to roll him over. When he did, Harry got the second shock of the day...

Instead of the flawless milky skin as per usual for Draco, his face was a flame with splotches of red and varying degrees of blues and greens. Blood was dried and crusted around the boys nostrils and blue cracked lips. A long slash ran through one of Draco's eyebrows, sectioning it into almost two different pieces. His usually tidy blonde hair was long and shaggy and plastered to his forehead, bits of blood were causing sections of it to clump together in tiny bundles.

Without thinking, Harry scooted closer to the prone boys figure and touched his cheek. It was icy to the touch. A stream of obscenities flowed freely from his lips. This wasn't good. This was so very not good. Harry closed his eyes and sighed.

/Why me?/


	5. Chapter 4

Story Note: /blah/ indicates thoughts.  
Author's Note: To catch completely up to where this story was before it was deleted from here, I'll have to post 30 more chapters. I plan to post two a day until I'm caught up. :)

--

**Chapter 4**

A groan escaped the blonde's cracked lips causing Harry to open his eyes once again. No amount of denial would make this go away for him. It was really happening and he had to deal with it.

Refocusing on the task at hand, Harry let his eyes room over Draco's form. Besides the obvious signs of the boy's many problems, there were other things that, even though simplistic, made Harry's stomach roll. Dirt was clinging to the boys hands, embedded under his usually immaculate nails, as they twitched periodically as if someone was sending little electro-shocks through his hands. Little cuts and scraps ran along the length of his arms and feet; some of them obviously days old and others looking as if they happened just a few hours before.

But that wasn't what made Harry as horrified as he was...Draco was skin and bones. Literally. All that lean muscle that had, over the years, been toned and sculpted was now gone to leave a hollow shell. The thin tee shirt that clung to his form showed easily the indents of his ribs and the hollows of his collarbone...

Harry swallowed thickly. My god how many weeks of starvation did Draco have to endure to get this way?

/Who would do this to him? Surely his father wouldn't.../ But Harry cut off that thought. He wasn't sure what Draco's father would and wouldn't do. Lucius Malfoy was in no way a kind man. That had been proven during Harry's third year at Hogwarts with the way he treated Dobby and even, to an extent, Draco. And it hadn't escaped Harry's attention that all through their fifth year at Hogwarts, Draco seemed to have drawn into himself with every letter he received from home. Even the biting remarks he threw at Harry on a regular basis weren't as snappish as they used to be.

/How long have I been noticing what Dr--Malfoy does?/ Harry asked himself irritably. He wasn't sure of the answer. Or perhaps, more likely, he didn't want to think about the answer. If he did then he'd have to admit a few things that were better left unsaid...

"Well you're a right mess..." He mumbled, more for the sake of saying something then really having anything to say. "...what am I gonna do with you?"

When only another groan escaped the boy's lips, Harry sighed. There was only one thing for him to do and he really didn't want to do it...With a deep breath, he shifted down till he was able to wiggle his arms beneath the blonde's knees and back. Steadying himself, Harry slowly stood, bringing Draco's body close against his chest.

/He barely weighs a thing./ He thought worriedly. Draco wasn't even as heavy as some of the stacks of school books Harry had to lug around from class to class. Clutching his bundle close, Harry turned and trudged back across the short distance.

Using his foot, he forced the front door open, kicking the block-stopper to the side and carefully maneuvered them both inside; that done, he once again used his foot to gently swing the door shut. A shiver ran through him again as the tingling in his scar, which until now he had successfully ignored, flared almost painfully so. Instinctively Harry clutched Draco closer. What the hell was going on?

/Don't just stand there! Get him up to your room before either a.) He wakes up and starts hexing you or b.) Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia wake up and start hitting you./

Without hesitation Harry began climbing the stairs (minding the squeaking step, of course) and tried not to think to closely about his motivation for doing so. Why should he care if anyone else sees Draco besides him? It wasn't as if the humiliation wouldn't do Draco some good...

/Oh bloody buggery you're pathetic!/ Harry thought when he realized that he had, by now, gotten to his room without any fuss and was now tucking Draco into his bed gently. /Get a grip Potter! /

Running a frustrated hand through his hair, Harry looked down spitefully at his enemy (who just happened to be snuggled quite nicely in his bed). "This is your fault, you know? This...whatever it is." Harry growled, rubbing his fingers over his scar to try to get the feeling to dull. The flare from before had faded but only by a fraction or so since he had settled Draco onto the bed.

"I hate my life." Harry said glumly, slumping down on the edge of the bed. Glancing over to Hedwig's cage he noticed with mild surprise that his owl was still there, looking at them both with something akin to affection.

Affection?


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"What are you looking at?" Harry snapped, earning a glare from Hedwig even as she hopped out of her cage and swooped out the window into the budding light of dawn.

"Damn."

The last thing he wanted to do was have Hedwig mad at him...again. As if it wasn't bad enough that he was in a house that everyone bloody well hated him and _then_ have to deal with a beat-up I'm-a-Malfoy-so-bow-down-or-you'll-have-your-bollocks-ripped-off enemy. His life was so unfair sometimes.

"Well you've done it this time, Malfoy. I don't know how you managed it but however you did...I hope it was worth it." Harry mumbled, dropping his head into his hands. The feeling in his scar had seemed to settle on a somewhat tolerable level or, at least, a level that he could ignore. And for that he was grateful.

/Well don't just sit there...do _something_./ A little voice in his head commanded even as his hands dropped down to his sides. /I guess I could...clean him up a bit./

Propelling himself off the edge of the bed, Harry scuttled around the room trying to find what he may need along with his scattering wits. /Better chance of finding Dobby then finding them./ A very Hermione-ish voice chided him. That only produced a scowl.

Gathering the little bit of dignity he felt he had left, Harry grabbed a wash towel (which was really just shreds of Dudley's old shirts) from a stack (yes, they were yet another thing that Aunt Petunia insisted he keep in his room. After all, she didn't want to have to do the laundry for him) and crossed to the room to the door. Despite the fact that he had to keep everything from toothpaste to his own 'towels' in the room, he still had go across the hall to the small bathroom; which was, of course, right next door to Dudley's room.

And, yes, even though Dudley could sleep through a sonic blast, he still risked the chance of waking up his Aunt or Uncle, which would only lead to a fate worse then Voldemort. When Uncle Vernon was woken early...to early...he was like a pit-bull with rabies. Harry winced to think about the one time three years ago when he had gotten up for a spot of water...

/My back still gives a twinge now and then from all the yard work I had to do./ He thought, placing a hand on the small of his back.

(_Ahem I think I need to jump in here...yes, yes I know you want to get on with the story but this needs to be told. Despite popular belief, Vernon never beat Harry. I know some of you and probably thinking 'ri-ight' but really, I would have never allowed Harry to stay there if I thought he was in any real danger. You see, Vernon and Petunia thought of all wizards as impure so why would Vernon touch dare to touch Harry?...I'm sure some of you understand better now...Don't look at me like that...I needed to explain. I think I should be offended by such language...but for the sake of Harry...I'm leaving now...)_

With exaggerated care, Harry turned the doorknob and peeked out into the dim hallway. No a peep. Casting one last withering glance at Draco's still form and sending a prayer to Merlin, he stepped out into the hallway and tiptoed to the bathroom.

/If anyone's listening - give me a break. Please./


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

It was slow going to the bathroom. Every other step was accompanied by a low moan in the woodwork that made Harry freeze like a statue for half a second before continuing on. This was definitely not what he had in mind when he had started this week...

Through the week he had the rare luxury of enjoying undisturbed solitude. Since it would be his birthday in less than a month, the Dursley's had taken to ignoring him far more thoroughly than they normally would have. He wasn't sure of the exact reasons but had a sneaking suspicion that it had to do with the fact that he had overheard Petunia talking about going on vacation before her "Dudley-kins" had to go back to Smelting.

Not that Harry objected. What he wouldn't give for just one week of no Dursleys...

/Fat chance of that happening, Potter, they'll probably send you to some neighbor./ His scowl deepened. Life was cruel.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he finally was able to turn the cool knob of the bathroom. The room was small; so small that it only afforded enough room for a small stand-up shower (in which Dudley, if he didn't get to use his parent's master bath, had to keep the door open so that he was about to turn. How he washed was a mystery), a painfully small pedestal sink and a toilet.

"Just wet the cloth and get out..." Harry muttered, folding the towel into a small square. With exaggerated ease, he turned the faucet onto its lowest setting. Cool water trickled out, wetting the cloth and shocking Harry's body a bit more awake.

Not wanting to waste time, Harry quickly grabbed another one of Aunt Petunia's "nice" dry towels, flipped the water back off, and left the room without hesitation. His heart was pounding in his chest making him feel as though it would burst through. Would his Uncle and Aunt be outside waiting for him...?

No. They weren't. Thankfully.

/Thank you Merlin! / He thought gleefully. /Almost there, almost there.../

But then, Harry's heart skipped a beat. There in the quiet of the hall he heard the one thing that he never wanted to hear again. Draco Malfoy screaming for help.


	8. Chapter 7

Once again, thank you for the reviews! I can't tell you how much I appreciate them. :)

--

**Chapter 7**

If Harry didn't know better he would have said that right at that moment he got his first gray hair. Hell, his first set of gray hairs, more like. Which seemed rather ridiculous if one was to think about it since he had faced more dangerous and deadly things but...It wasn't facing the Dursley's that had his heart beating so fast. It was Draco.

Never in all his life had he heard someone scream in such utter fright; in anger, yes, in confusion, yes, even in pain but never before had heard such utter terror and anguish in one sound. Especially from the likes of one Draco Malfoy. That alone was enough to make a small part of him die.

Whatever it was that scared Draco so thoroughly must be...must have been...

Harry shuddered. God, he didn't want to think about it...

"THAT BOY! I'LL BLOODY WELL KILL HIM!"

A string of indistinguishable and very un-Gryffindor curses flowed out of Harry's mouth as he put his quidditch toughened legs into use and sprinted into his room. Once inside, he wasted no time as he turned and slammed the door shut even as he heard his Uncle and Aunt's door slam open.

Another curse dripped from Harry's tongue as he fumbled with the locks on his door. Though the majority of the locks were on the outside, Harry had taken it upon himself to, over the summer, install three on the inside. Just in case. He never knew what might happen nowadays and even though the locks were a mere nothing to another wizard, they would allow him the space of a few seconds to escape if needed.

"BOY!" Vernon's voice boomed from the few feet away from Harry's door. Harry bit his lip hard as he slid the last lock into place. If only Dumbledore and the Ministry would allow him a little leeway so he could enforce the locks with a touch of magic. Then he would know that Vernon would never be able to enter his room without his consent. Now all he could do was hope that the locks held.

Taking a step back, Harry grabbed the one rickety chair in the room and tilted it so it was braced just under the doorknob. If his Uncle did break the locks then at least Harry might have a chance to figure out something while he struggled with that chair.

As if on some cue, the door began to shake as Vernon pounded his oversized fist against it's frame.

"OPEN THIS DOOR!"

Harry winced and took another involuntary step back. He was use to his Uncle yelling but it never failed to make him uneasy. After all, the man sounded like a strangled pig when he did it.

/Maybe I should use my wand. I'm sure the Ministry would let it go after they found out the circumstances.../

But before he could turn and search for said wand, Draco screamed again. Reminding him why his Uncle was angry in the first place.

"Draco...Malfoy...shit! Be quiet. Please be quiet." Harry pleaded as he abandoned his spot where he was standing to go to the boy's side. "Please, Draco...just..."

But Draco didn't seem inclined to listen as another scream ripped out his lungs as he writhed on the bed. His body was jerking back and forth over the thin frame making it squeak in protest. /Shit./

The door creaked in protest as Vernon lay in on another round of beating the poor woodwork. "STOP IT BOY! STOP THAT SCREAMING!"

Harry bit his lip once again, soon tasting blood. What the hell was he supposed to do? On one side of the door he had his Uncle foaming at the mouth and on the other he had Draco having some sort of fit that reminded him vaguely of what happened to drug addicts when they were going through withdraw. Or so he had read.

/Damnit Draco...you had better have a good explanation for this./ He thought as he sat down on the bed to try to grip onto Draco's jerking arms. It was a tough task. Every time he had a somewhat firm hold the boy would jerk away as another set of spasms racked his frames. Yet again all Harry could say was...

"Oh my god."

The spasms through Draco's body only intensified with each slam of his Uncle's fist causing Harry to wonder if the man somehow had something to do with this. But that thought quickly fled as Harry's own scream joined in with the boy's as his scar flared...


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

For how long this went out, Harry couldn't say. Draco's jerking body and his Uncle's banging where second to the pain that was sweeping through him from his scar. It was as if someone had injected acid into him and it was slowly crawling its way through his veins, destroying him from the inside out.

Grip faltering on the Slytherins' body, Harry pressed his palms flatly against the side of his head as though he feared if he didn't it would explode. Blood rushed in his ears making everything else seep through in a dull roar. A light sheen of sweat broke out across his body. God, when would it stop?

Minutes flashed by as the pain continued. He couldn't even bring himself to care as Draco's body, still within the hold of the seizure, slammed into his own causing both of their bodies to tumble to the floor. It made the pain feel as though someone has just stuck a knife into his scar and was now twisting it about.

Twisting and writhing on his own, Harry was dimly aware of Draco's hands reaching out on their own accord to scratch at his bare chest as though the blonde were a cat. Harry gasped as the stinging pain that skittered across his chest.

"Stop. Stop. Stop." Harry chanted, the two pains mixing together in agony. "Stop!"

And with that the pain fled. So quickly that within a blink of an eye Harry was left panting and slumped on the floor.

/What...?/ He thought removing his hands from the sides of his face. His arms and ears were aching but the only sensation in his scar was that gentle tingling sensation that felt raw and overpowering and so...

"...DO YOU HEAR ME?! DAMMIT BOY STOP THAT GOD FORSAKEN SCREAMING!"

Harry groaned. Why does everything bad have to happen all at the same time for him?

Pushing himself up shakily, Harry took a moment to look down at his chest. Two pairs of ragged scratches ran from his collar bone to his belly button. He sighed.

/One problem at a time./ He thought wearily, the echo's of his pain still shocking through is body. Pressing a hand out to steady himself he looked down at Draco, his heart seizing, realizing the boy was still being rocked by great spasms that made the boy's teeth chatter together violently.

But instead of the jerky movements of just before the boy's body was writhing, his nails now scratching himself. /He's hurting himself...Do _something_!/ His mind screamed. So Harry did the only thing he could...

Reaching over Draco's body he grabbed the blonde's hands and pinned them to his side as he crawled onto the bed and then in turn onto Draco, using his body and legs to pin the rest of him. Harry gritted his teeth as he dug his toes into the bed sheets.

"Calm down, Draco. Calm down!" He mumbled. Despite the blondes weakened and diminished form, holding him down was like wrestling the Weasley twins. Especially in the skitter state he was in.

"Draco, please..." He said voice quieter. He was desperate. If Draco didn't respond to a command then maybe he would to tenderness...

It worked.

"That's it...calm down...Just listen to my voice." He whispered low as if he was talking to a scared animal. His insides twisted painfully as Draco melted in his arms. "You're doing good...that's it. Just listen to me...I won't let anyone hurt you..."

Even with Vernon's continuing screaming, Harry was inexplicably pleased at how Draco responded to his voice and his voice alone.

"I'm so proud of you. You're doing so well. Calm down...just a little more. Deep breath, baby. That's it. Good Draco...good."

Feeling slightly reassured that Draco wouldn't go into another fit, Harry moved both of his hands to cradle the blondes face. "You're so good. I'm so proud." He murmured, one hand carting through Draco's hair and the other petting small circle against the boy's flushed cheeks.

Without a thought Harry drowned out everything else that didn't have to do with Draco. The boy had his full attention. Not even the almost overwhelming tingling in his scar could distract him from Draco.


	10. Chapter 9

Author's Note: Many, many thanks to all those who have sent me such wonderful reviews. I appreciate them more than I can say :)

* * *

**Chapter 9**

_I think it's about time I cut in again. Yes, I know that I should probably let you go on and find out what happens but for those of you biting your nails in fright...I thought I would reassure you a bit. Although it does seem as though everything is a bit scattered and jumbled...well let me just say that everything connects. I do so love a mystery and I wouldn't deprive you of one but I thought it wouldn't spoil too much if I just told you that...So keep it in mind...Oh...and are you sure you wouldn't like a lemon drop? They're quite tasty. No? Well, perhaps later..._

The greater part of an hour had already passed by the time Harry decided he had enough of his Uncle's rambling. What his Uncle thought he was accomplishing by yelling at his door, Harry didn't know. But, he'd had enough.

Sliding out of bed with one last caress to Draco's gaunt cheek, Harry made his way to the door. He would not have the man continue to beat on the damn door while the blonde was in here suffering!

Gathering his anger around him like a shield, Harry grabbed the rickety chair firmly and threw it to the side. He noted with some satisfaction that his Uncle's roar had stopped mid rant as he deftly slide the locks out of the way. Before he had the chance to reach for the knob, the door flew open...

"ABOUT BLOODY TIME! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE..." But Vernon's voice trailed off as he got a good look at his horrid little nephew. His eyes widened slightly even as another flush of anger covered his portly cheeks. Moments later his beady little eyes glanced past Harry to Draco, his bushy mustache twitched. But before he could look more closely or even take a step forward, Harry stepped in his way...

Disgust and anger welled inside of Harry as he stared as his Uncle. The man's obese face was red and covered in sweat. His mustache quivered as he took in great gulps of air through his oversized nostrils.

A snarl broke Harry's lips. "Get out."

Vernon's beady eyes sharpened. "NOW SEE HERE BOY! YOU LIVE WITH ME AND I WON'T STAND FOR YOU TO TALK TO ME..."

"SHUT UP!" Harry barked, cutting Vernon off. How _dare_ his Uncle. How _dare_ him. Taking a deep breath, Harry felt his scar flare with an echo of his previous pain, fueling his anger ten-fold. Curling his fingers into tight fist, Harry continued on in a low tightly controlled voice. "You will get out of my room. Now."

Vernon sneered. "WAIT JUST A MINUTE.."

"I told you to shut up," growled Harry. Vernon did, too shocked to do anything else. "Good. Now you will turn around and leave my room. You will not bother me again. If you do, I'll make you regret it."

Vernon stared at Harry for a long moment as if gauging how serious Harry was. Then...

"You aren't allowed to do magic outside of school."

Harry snorted. "You really think that would stop me from blasting your big hairy arse off the face of the planet?"

Vernon's face went red and white all at the same time. "You...you..." He sputtered but then stopped short. Harry smirked.

"Now get out. And if you so much as breath a word to anyone about my guest...hell if you bloody well think about what and who you saw in this room, Dudley will suddenly have a snout and a new tail."

Vernon stared at him then turned on his heels as best as he could and stormed out of Harry's room, slamming the door behind him.

Harry's smirk grew. Merlin that had felt good.

"B-b-bet you've b-been waiting to d-d-do that for a w-w-while n-now..." A croaking voice murmured behind him causing Harry to spin around and stare into the smoky gray eyes of his archenemy.

Harry's smile faltered for a moment. If possible, Draco looked worse awake than he did asleep.

Draco lifted an eyebrow but soon forego-ed it when he realized it was the one that had been slashed. Harry forced a smile.

"I've been wanting to do that since I came here." He said. Draco nodded in understanding as a dry cough racked his form. Harry took an involuntary step forward. He didn't know how Draco would react to him being nice now that he was awake. /Wait a minute...how long _has_ he been awake?/

"D-d-don't j-just stand there P-otter. Get m-me a d-d-drink." Draco wheezed, clutching a hand over his ribs. Harry propelled himself into motion.

/Where the bloody hell--aha! There it is!/ He thought as he scanned his room for the water bottle he kept there. Since the one time that he had gotten punished for getting up in the middle of the night for a glass of water when he was twelve, he had taken to filling one before he went to bed just in case.

Grabbing the bottle from off his desk, Harry quickly unscrewed the cap and moved to Draco holding it out to him. Draco rolled his eyes.

"C-can't exactly d-d-drink it laying d-down now, c-can I?" Draco asked. Harry blushed.

Setting the bottle onto the floor out of the way, he moved to Draco's side and slide an arm under his shoulders to help him sit up. That accomplished he picked up the bottle and put it to Draco's lips.

For a less than a second Draco looked as though he was about to protest but one look at Harry's determined face and he stayed silent, sipping his water. Several silent minutes passed as Harry helped Draco drink, making sure never to give him more than a table spoon each time so it wouldn't turn Draco's stomach. By the time the process was done, Draco had drunk half the bottle.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, a crease forming between his brows as he held the bottle up in invitation. Draco shook his head.

"F-full." He said simply. Harry sighed. Being full after half a bottle of water was definitely not a good sign.

/Maybe I can make him a little broth.../ He thought as he recapped the bottle. /At least then he would have something with a little consistency in him. Or maybe some very weak tea to start.../

Draco's stuttering whispered voice pulled him out of his musing. "T-th-thank you."

Harry didn't pretend to mistake what he meant. "You're welcome."

Strained minutes passed as Harry allowed Draco to adjust to saying 'thank you' to him. Harry settled himself at the end of the bed, making sure he didn't touch Draco. Who knew how the boy would react to the contact.

"H-he always l-like that?" Draco asked minutes later. Harry smiled blandly.

"Pretty much."

Draco nodded. Harry watched him curiously from under his lashes. Something was going on in that cute little blonde head of his. /Whoa! Red light! Stop right there! Do NOT pass go, do NOT collect two hundred gallons. Cute?/

A small sigh escaped Draco's lips as his nose wrinkled. Harry bit his bottom lip. /Yeah. Definitely cute. Have I told you that you're pathetic today?/

"So..." Harry started. He was not going down that lane of thought. At least not now.

"So what P-Potter?" Draco sneered. /There's the Slytherin you know and lo-hate./

Harry shrugged.

"Planning on telling me what's the hell is going on?" He asked nonchalantly though his heart was pounding in his chest.

"I'm l-laying here and y-y-you're sitting there." Draco stated with another eye roll, though the corners of his eyes scrunched as if he was in pain. "T-try to keep up w-with the rest of the c-c-class, Potter."

Harry sighed. "Cut the shit, Dr-Malfoy. Just tell me why the hell I woke up this morning to find you in my front lawn."

Draco grimaced and settled down further into Harry's pillow. "L-leave m-m-me alone. I'm s-s-leepy."

"Malfoy..." Harry growled but stopped himself short as he saw the way the boy's eyes were, indeed, dropping. "Fine Malfoy...get some sleep. But when you wake up, I want answers."

"Mmm." Was the only response he got as Draco fell back into a deep sleep. Harry sighed and for the second time of the day swung himself out of bed. /Need to write Dumbledore anyway.../

Dragging the dingy chair over to the desk, Harry got out parchment and ink. He'd have to wait for Hedwig to come back before he could send it but he could at least pass the time by writing it out.

/How the bloody hell do I start this? 'Dear Dumbledore, Draco is here. Scar tingled and hurt. Yours truly, Harry.'?/ Harry snorted. /Don't think so./

Opening his ink well slowly, Harry sat back in his chair to contemplate. His eyes wandered over to Draco's sleeping form.

/He sucks his thumb!?/


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

By the time Draco awoke again it was well past tea time and Harry was on his fifth try of writing to Dumbledore. Every time he would begin to write he would feel as though his explanations were weak or silly. After all, this situation wasn't exactly an easy thing to write about and Harry barely knew where to start.

"Bollocks..." Harry muttered crossly as he waded up the ink blotted parchment before him.

"P-problems with h-h-homework, Potter?" Draco's wry pillow-muffled voice asked. Harry looked over in surprise. He hadn't expected Draco to wake up till later in the evening or, perhaps, not even till the next morning.

"No...I, well, I was writing Professor Dumbledore." He said, ignoring the squeak of protests from the chair as he leaned back till the front to legs were hovering above the floor. Draco still had his thumb pressed tightly against him mouth though it was no longer inside. Two of his fingers were curled against his chin while the other two were over his nose. Just like any true thumb-sucker did.../Maybe he's been a thumb-sucker since he was a baby./

A vivid image of Draco as a baby, perhaps even in tweed nappies with a little stuffed toy dragon sucking his thumb, popped into Harry's head making him grin.

"Oh." Draco murmured, giving him an odd look before pulling his hand away from his face completely unfazed that Harry had seen him sucking his thumb and gave into a long luxurious stretch. Well as good a stretch someone who had been beaten, starved and god knows what else could give into.

"I don't know what to write." Harry groused his eyes reverted to Draco's stomach. He felt his jaw clench in anger as he slammed his chair back down on all fours. Draco's stomach was sunken in so completely that the ridges of his ribcage could be traced easily from a distance.

/I'm going to bloody well kill someone; How could _anyone _be so cruel? / He thought as his mind turned crimson with anger. He didn't even know where the anger came from but he was going to indulge it as long as he wanted. However, before he could imagine all the torturous things he could and would do to the person that hurt the blonde, Draco's voice cut into his thoughts -

"Then d-don't write a-anything." He garbled, running a hand over his forehead. His face was slowly becoming tense with a mixture of discomfort and alarm. Harry sat up straighter, thumping his chair back onto all fours.

"What is it?"

"I-I d-d-don't know. It h-hurts. L-like f-fire but m-more gentle." Draco whispered in wonder even though terror coated his face. His dirt smudged fingers massaged his forehead over the hair plastered there. He looked at Harry, eyes shinning in panic. "D-don't l-l-let it ha-happen again!"

Harry felt his stomach lurch at Draco's plea. /Oh god, this isn't happening./ He thought as he unfurled his body from the seat and moved towards the other boy as slowly as possible. /Please, please don't let this be what I think it is.../

Sitting down gingerly on the edge of the bed, Harry tried to pluck up some courage.

"Potter...oh god Harry...please make it stop!" Draco begged, his voice tittering on the edge of hysteria. He clutched onto the shirt Harry had changed into with the hand he wasn't using to press on his forehead. "Please!"

Harry licked his lips and nodded. "I'll - do what I can Draco. I swear."

Holding his breath, Harry reached out shaking fingers to pry Draco's hand away. When the blonde made to move in protest, Harry let himself fall into the gentle tones of before. "It's okay, Draco. I'm right here. I won't leave you but just let me have a look, hm? I'm right here and I won't let it hurt you--"

Harry continued on with his rambling, not caring what might slip out. His only concern was to see what he already knew in his heart would be there. "That's it baby, just relax. I'm so proud."

Draco's hand went limp to his side as he curled around Harry's body for protection, listening intently to the soothing words that were slipping out of the Gryffindors lips.

Harry flexed his fingers looking at the shaggy blonde hair flattened against Draco's forehead. /Well here goes nothing...and everything.../

Biting his lip, Harry pushed back the boys hair and -- there; there it was. The one thing that Harry had wanted nothing more than to wish away: a thin lightening bolt scar.

"Oh god..." Harry whispered almost inaudibly. Tears sprung to his eyes as he fingers flexed once again. Draco Malfoy was now another boy-who-lived and there wasn't a damn thing Harry could do about it. "I'm so sorry..."

A choked sob was his only reply. Harry squeezed his eyes shut.

/Please let this be a dream. Please let me wake up and this is all one big nasty dream and I'm still just Harry Potter and Draco is just a cruel as ever./ But when Harry opened his eyes he found that it wasn't a dream. It never would be a dream. It was real.

"At f-f-first I d-didn't know w-what was g-g-going on." Draco whispered suddenly, his voice deadly calm despite the way his body shook against Harry's own. "M-my father c-c-came and t-t-told me to g-get up and g-get dressed. H-he said I n-n-needed to hurry. I t-thought mum was s-sick or t-t-that we w-where finally going into h-hiding l-like he always t-talked about. B-but I w-wasn't fast enough...they c-c-came in d-dragging my--" Suddenly the blonde choked as a sob rose in his throat. Harry did the only thing he could: pulled the boy closer, wrapping him in warmth and understanding.

"You don't have to." Harry mumbled, pressing his lips against the other boy's hair in an effort to keep his own voice steady. He didn't want to hear this. He didn't need to. He already knew.

But Draco shook his head. He needed to tell this. Taking a sharp breath through his nose, he continued --

"They w-were dragging my m-mum by her h-hair. D-ad tried to s-stop them b-but..." Draco shuddered. "...t-they h-hit him with a sp-spell before he could d-do more th-than kill one o-or two. Mum g-got away somehow and r-ran to me. I--she died before she e-even got to me. Sh-she died trying to protect m-me."

Harry couldn't take it anymore as he let his own tears spill silently, pulling the shaking boy into his lap and shushing him. He didn't need to hear the rest; He didn't want to.

"It's okay. You're here now." Harry whispered, feeling the boys hot tears soak into his tee shirt. "You're here with me. I won't let anyone hurt you. Ever."

Without thinking, Harry began placing tiny kisses into the boy's hair trying to offer any comfort he could. He knew it wouldn't help but it couldn't hurt. The Slytherin needed someone; someone to lean on and to understand what he was going through. And that someone was Harry.

Silence descended on the small bedroom, only choked sobs and ragged breathing filling the quiet. Harry could hear the distant sounds of his Aunt and Uncle moving downstairs and the triumphant crows from his cousin as he watched some game show or other. They're lives continued as if nothing had happened.

Harry stared at the wall. His life would never be the same.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Minutes blurred into hours as the young Gryffindor continued to hold the blonde in his arms, offering the only kind of comfort and safety he knew how. Draco had long since stopped his sobbing and was now laying docile within the confines of Harry's arms, soaking in the other boys' warmth.

Harry sighed, tightening his hold on the other boy briefly. How much time passed, he couldn't say but the sounds of his so called "family" going out to their evening meal could be heard clearly. That, in itself, was a not-so-rare occurrence since both his Aunt and Uncle had given up on trying putting Dudley on a diet. His cousin would simply not stop eating in bulk. So after one very long talk with the Smelting' school nurse and an even longer one with the tailor, Dudley had gotten his way and was allowed to eat himself into whale history. Harry shuddered to think what he would look like by the time he was out of school...

"D-don't tell anyone a-about this H-h-harry." A soft voice whispered against his ear causing a shiver to race down his spine. Harry shook his head, feeling the smooth glide of skin as their cheeks slide against one another.

"I won't. You know I won't."

Draco nodded and rested his head back onto Harry's chest. That was how they had ended up after those few hours. Harry laying down on the bed, one hand behind his head for support, the other wrapped around Draco's waist with the boy lying practically on top of him. His head was tucked next to Harry's on the pillow causing their cheeks, or even occasionally Draco's lips, to rub against each other. Whether it bothered Harry or not to have Draco's slight form nestled against him...no one would be sure. But the fiery tingling in his scar was certainly a clue...

"D-Does it l-look bad?"

Harry's lips twisted. He knew this question would come. "Not any worse than mine."

"Oh." A wheezy laugh escaped Draco's lips. "I-I had hoped m-mine would be d-different."

What? "What?"

Harry could feel Draco's lips twist into a sad smile against the side of his neck. "People will th-think I'm just c-copying you. Just a-another Malfoy trying to be b-b-better than a P-Potter."

Harry couldn't help but give an odd smile of his own. As much as it should disturb him that Draco was right...he couldn't bring himself to care or even want to. After all their years of rivalry and trying to live up to the enmity their father's had had for one another...well...it just seemed strange to try to be enemies here and now.

"Don't be ridiculous Malfoy." Harry teased half heartedly. "Everyone knows that Potter's are the best."

Draco snorted or at least tried to until it turned into coughing.

/Guess the funs over.../ Harry thought mournfully as he rolled out from under Draco, gently rearranging the boy on the bed so he wouldn't be in pain.

"We need to get you in the shower..." He said, resting his hands on his hips in an all business like manner. /Shower to get the grime off...no, corrections. Two showers. One to get the dirt clumps off and another to actually clean him. Then some clothes and then some weak tea.../

Draco, for the sake of not raising an eyebrow, cocked his head to the side. Harry blushed.

"You're filthy. And...and...I'm sure the hot water will feel good on your...uhm...body." Harry floundered. He wasn't sure how to deal with this side of Draco; the playful side.

/He's repressing./ a matter of fact voice said that sounded very much like Madame Pomfrey. Harry grimaced. He knew that. Since the boy had showed up he had been repressing. The small breakdown he had had was nothing to what Harry knew still lurked somewhere under the surface. But if Draco wanted to repress and shield himself from the pain for the time being, Harry wouldn't push...

"I-I'll scrub your b-back if you scrub m-mine." Draco teased weakly. He was enjoying Harry's blushing just a little too much.

"R-ight." Harry mumbled as his face turned another shade of scarlet. "Just shut up and make this easier on both of us."

Draco smiled slightly and settled back onto the bed. He was going to make this as difficult as possible. /Great. Just great./

With a shake of his head, Harry turned and began to collect the few things he would need. Soap, an extra toothbrush, another set of clothes, and a few other oddities. He didn't grab his rag of a towel. He'd use the Durleys. At least they were good for something...

"Never been in a m-m-muggle shower before." Draco muttered when Harry came back over to the bed side and slide an arm under his shoulder. Harry smiled faintly.

"It's not that interesting."

"B-but I d-don't know how to g-g-get water. I saw one, one t-time in one of the b-books at school and it s-said you had to g-get buckets of w-water."

Harry snorted. "I can assure you that though muggles may not have all the advances we do, they still figured out indoor plumbing."

"O-oh. D-did they?"

"Hmm." Harry affirmed. He wasn't particularly interested in talking about muggle plumbing with Draco but if it kept the boy's mind from how he could barely stand and had to have Harry take all his weight, he'd tell him anything he wanted to know. "Don't worry about it, Draco. I'll be there to turn it on and off and explain to you anything else you want to know.

"You're g-gonna shower w-with me?" Draco asked surprised. Harry felt his stomach clench.

"No. But I'm not about to leave you in there alone even with my relatives gone."

/And definitely not in the state your in./ He added silently. So far they had only succeeded in getting Draco half-way across the room. It seemed as if he could get his legs and feet to work properly. The simple task of making one foot follow another was almost too much.

/Damn! Damn! Damn! Why couldn't I have paid closer attention when we had to take that emergency health class last year?/

It had been a mandatory class that all students over third year level had to take just in case. Or, at least, that was what Madame Pomfrey had said the first day of the class.

Minutes ticked away as Harry shuffled Draco bit by bit to the bathroom. He had wanted to just pick the boy up and carry him in but he knew the blonde would protest. So he was at least going to give Draco the illusion that he was doing it on his own so when Harry did carry him back to his room, Draco couldn't say anything.

"Think you'll be okay in here for a minute?" Harry asked, sitting Draco down on top of the loo.

Draco nodded, panting for breath. That walk had been a little much for him.

"Okay. I'll be right back, okay? Two seconds. I promise." Harry called as he hurried out the room and back to his to get supplies. He wouldn't admit it to anyone but he didn't like leaving Draco alone. The rational part of him knew that he was being ridiculous. The Dursleys would be out for hours. Dudley never left a restaurant until he'd had at least four helpings. And it wasn't as if the Death Eaters were going to storm the house. Not with the protection spells surrounding it.

But none the less, he couldn't help but feel as though he was letting Draco go unprotected.

"Back." Harry said, as he re-entered the bathroom less than a minute later with everything he needed. "Told you I would be back."

Draco gave him a weak smile. But Harry didn't find it hard to tell that the blonde's face looked strained and paler than usual. Harry sat the belongings on the counter.

"Hey." He said softly, kneeling down in front of the other boy. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I just went back to the room to get a few things. I won't leave Draco. You're stuck with me."

Harry smiled gently. "You're safe. I'll protect you."

Draco's eyes welled with tears as he nodded. "O-okay."

Harry caressed his cheek. "How about that shower, hm?"


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

The shower ended up taking longer than either boy had really planned. After sorting out the few items he needed, Harry flipped on the shower head so the heater could kick in -- the Dursleys' had a horrid water heater, it took at least five minutes for the water to warm up enough so you wouldn't go into shock -- then went about doing the one task he wanted to avoid: undressing Draco.

"D-do I need to s-s-stand?" The blonde asked quietly as Harry leaned over to grab the hem of his tee shirt. Harry shook his head.

"No. I can manage." He murmured quietly, hoping his gentle tone would soothe and comfort the other boy as well as steer clear of any embarrassment that might be trying to force its way to the surface.

Draco nodded, looking down at his battered hands lying curled in his lap. A small flush began to spread over his cheeks and neck, disappearing into the neckline of his tee shirt. The corners of his mouth twitched as if he was debating if he should say something.

Harry's fingers curled around the hem of the boy's shirt, waiting and watching. Draco's face was beginning to pinch into itself as though a war was raging inside but minutes ticked away as the boy said nothing. Finally, the blondes nodded slightly, lips thinning to a pale line across his face.

With a deep breath, the young Gryffindor began to ease the tattered tee shirt up. Inch by excruciating inch it peeled away to reveal bruised flesh. A multitude of cuts and blackened bruises marred the once milky flesh of the blonde's abdomen.

Welts of varying sizes ran crisscross along his stomach to form a deranged and bloody version of a tic-tac-toe board. Scratches that could only belong to fingernails glared an angry red, obviously infected by the lack of medical attention.

Harry swallowed thickly but continued to peel the shirt away to reveal the bottom of Draco's chest...There was patterned bruises that could only be from the long end of a belt.

/A belt? Wizards don't wear belts.../

"Draco..." Harry began, revulsion causing his voice to waver and hands still where they were.

"D-don't!" Draco hissed, shaky hands grasping Harry's own in a surprisingly strong grip. "J-just don't P-potter. I don't w-want to talk a-about it!"

Harry could only stare at him in surprise. A part of him was screaming to not listen to Draco. To ask the boy the question he wanted to. But...

"It's okay, Draco." He murmured, fighting down a wave of nausea. Sucking a sharp breath through his nose, he carefully began to ease the shirt up again.

It would only make things more difficult than they already were if he pressed the blonde on the issue. Draco would tell him what he wanted to know sooner or later.

/Lets just hope it's sooner./ Harry thought as he felt bile rise in his throat. If he had thought the bottom of Draco's chest was bad...

Bloody welts glared angrily back of him. Some of them were rising up from his skin giving Harry more than a good hint that they were inflamed. Along the welts, bruises highlighted them, making your eyes jump from one to the next before you could stop them.

Against his hands, Harry could feel Draco shaking so badly that he could barely hold the hem of the shirt without Draco's body bumping again them causing a small yip to escape his lips.

"I'm so sorry..." Harry whispered, tears stinging his eyes. And he was. He was sorry for so many things right now; for his parents dying to protect him, for him not being strong enough to destroy Voldemort fully, but most of all for not being able to protect Draco from...everything...

"L-l-leave it, Potter." Draco growled, shoving Harry's hands away.

"Draco..."

"NO!"

Harry watched in alarm as Draco ripped the tee shirt over his head the rest of the way, causing some of the welts to begin to bleed again.

"There P-potter! H-have a good l-look!" Draco hissed, fingers clenching into fists. But Harry didn't. It wasn't for the lack of wanting to but he knew now, without a doubt, that if he did, he would lose the little bit of trust Draco had in him...forever.

"Draco...calm down." Harry implored softly, staring directly into the other boy's tear clouded eyes. "You're going to hurt yourself."

"I d-don't c-c-care!" Draco shouted at him. "I don't c-care! D-do you hear m-me! I d-don't!"

Another part of Harry's heart died.

"Don't l-look at me l-like that P-potter! I don't want your p-pity!"

And with that Draco began to push at Harry, albeit weakly. His bone-thin hands pressed against Harry's shoulders as if he was trying to escape.

"L-let me go, Potter! L-let me go!"

"I'm not touching you Draco. I'm not. I swear it." Harry said, letting his hands fall down to his sides as Draco continued to push.

/Let him wear himself out. He needs to get it out.../

"L-let me go..." Draco sobbed, giving one last shove to Harry before breaking down into gut wrenching sobs. In a matter of seconds, the hands that had been shoving Harry away were pulling him close.

Harry didn't hesitate as he wrapped his arms carefully around the other boys form, sliding to the ground and pulling Draco into his lap.

"It's okay baby. I've got you. Harry's got you. I'm here. No one else. Just Harry...just your Harry..." He murmured, rocking them both back and forth. One hand rested against the small of the boys back while the other rubbed soothing circles into Draco's withered arm.

Time slipped away as Harry rocked them, his back pressed against the shower door and Draco curled pathetically in his lap. The blonde's sobs bounced around the walls but Harry didn't seem to mind. He would simply shush him gently and pull him closer.

/He's losing it, Harry; he's falling apart slowly but surely. Merlin knows how long he's been wandering around the muggle world. It's all been too much for him...You need to fix him. Give him something to hold on to./

Harry looked down at the boy in his arms. His sobs were slowing as exhaustion set in. /He's only been here a day.../

"D-don't let them take me, Potter..." Draco murmured, more than half asleep.

Harry's heart fluttered.

"Never."

/A day is all you need./


	14. Chapter 13

**Author's Note**: Thank you all for such lovely reviews! It's always such a surprise to me that people respond so positively to this story, no matter how silly it may or may not get. Also, just to remind you all, this story completely ignores the events of OotP, HBP, and DH; point of fact, I started writing this story _before_ OotP even came out so, yes, all of _them_ are still alive.

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**Chapter 13**

By the time Draco had dropped into a deep sleep, Harry had just begun to worry. He wasn't sure how long they had been in the shower and though he was confident his relatives wouldn't come barging in on them should they return home, he still had many things to do. One being top and foremost in his mind was making something light for Draco to eat. He didn't want to push the boy, that would only make him sick, but they had to get something into his stomach.

Harry fought down a few choice curse words as he tried to remember what was in the pantry downstairs. He wasn't sure what Aunt Petunia had stocked and more importantly if what she had stocked he would be able to take. Not that there was a chance that his Aunt would notice something was missing. With Dudley in the house, things tended to only last for so long. Harry had to learn that the hard way.

/There should be some tea left. Dudley hates honey tea and Aunt Petunia only brings it out when company is over./ He thought shifting Draco onto the floor regretfully.

A shower was most definitely out of the question now. Well, at least a real shower was out of the question. The best he could do for the boy was give him a make-shift sponge bath to get some of the grit off of him as well as bandage some of the worst of the wounds; which meant most of his body. Harry sighed. Once Draco had his strength back, Harry would be able to help the blonde to take a shower.

Not wanting to waste time, Harry scrambled to his feet and opened the shower door enough so he could reach in a flip the water off. It had just barely begun to warm. Turning on his heels, mindful of were Draco lay, the young wizard went to the water basin and flipped that water on. It would be better if he had a bowel of some sort, just so he could lay it beside Draco as he tended to him, but a part of the Gryffindor wouldn't allow him to leave the confines of the room long enough to find one.

/This is easier anyway./ a voice supplied. He didn't argue.

Adjusting the knobs, Harry let his finger hover under the water, waiting for the temperature to become just right. Thankfully, the water in the tap warmed faster than the shower and in no time at all, the basin was half filled with lukewarm water.

Wiping his fingers on his jeans, the dark haired boy grabbed the soap he had brought from his room, which was only a small bottle of slivery liquid Hermione had made for him before they left Hogwarts. Quickly he measured out a cap full and dumped it into the water. The liquid was a mixture of Woundwort poultice and an array of other herbs that Harry wasn't sure he could pronounce but his friend had promised worked wonders.

Swishing his fingers around in the water, the Gryffindor watched in mild fascination (though he'd seen it before) as the water turned a coppery color. He knew from his own experience that the liquid was extremely powerful. Just the small cap-full would help heal more than half of 

Draco's cuts while disinfecting the worst of them as well as ease the ache in some of the uglier bruises.

He really needed to thank Hermione sometime...

Steeling his resolve, Harry grabbed one of the many rags he had brought and dipped it into the water. Better to use his rags first. He could at least throw them away.

/Hope you're a deep sleeper, Draco./ He thought as he dipped the rag in again, rung it out and slide to his knees beside the prone boy. /Better just leave the pants on for now./

Folding the rag into a small square and placing the corner of it onto the blonde's shoulder, Harry swallowed thickly. He truly hoped that the other boy stayed asleep through out all of this. It was going to hurt like hell if not.

Casting one last glance to the Slytherin's face, Harry began to bathe away the dirt. Almost instantly, the rag was covered in caked dirt and congealed blood. Harry felt his stomach roll.

/ I'm sorry. /

Lifting the clothe away, Harry dipped it into the water basin, watching as the grim floated off the rag to be pulled to the bottom of the sink, just as he had knew it would. Squeezing the clothe out again, he leaned back down to his task.

/Slow and easy; the last thing I need is for him to wake up./ He thought, scrubbing as gently as possible at a spot near Draco's collarbone.

Several trips to the water basin and more than a few rags later, Harry had finally cleaned Draco's chest, neck and face to the full extent that he could. He was hard pressed not to caress the creamy skin now that it was clean. Never before had he realized how much it truly did make Draco look like -- Draco; like the boy he knew, or, had thought he knew.

/C'mon Harry! Get it together! He's exhausted, beaten and more than likely mentally unstable. You can't just start --petting -- him when he's like that!/ He chastised himself. But even so, Harry couldn't help but let his fingers hover over the downy flesh of Draco's bare shoulder.

/He's beautiful. Really truly beautiful./ He mused, watching in mild fascination as his tanned hand hovered so close to the boy's cream flesh he could feel the heat rising.

As strange as it was for the Gryffindor to think or even begin to think, he did think Draco was beautiful. Why he never noticed it before was beyond him. But now that he had, the fragile beauty lying before him took his breath away. Draco Malfoy was exquisite.

"So beautiful..." Harry found himself murmuring unconsciously, hand moving in the air just above the normally porcelain skin.

It didn't matter that this young wizard was one of his enemies; that he was a boy; that right now Draco was broken. Harry could fix him.

"I don't know what's going on Draco. Not with you and not with me but I swear to you -- I'll make this right." The Gryffindor murmured, moving to place a comforting hand on top of Draco's heart. But the comfort only lasted for as long as it took for Harry's skin to touch Draco's.

A firestorm was exploding through his scar.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

Biting his lip, Harry could do nothing but clutch his forehead as the sensation exploded through his body. It was as though a thousand small fingertips were running along Harry's scar making the rest of his body prickle with energy and his stomach clench painfully. The sickening sensation rolled over him in waves as he stared down blearily at Draco.

The feeling was like torture. A very strange and exciting torture but none the less torture...

/Oh bloody fucking hell this is too much! / He thought as he tried to concentrate on the feel of Draco's skin beneath his hand. But, if anything, the concentration on that creamy surface only made the sensation increase ten-fold. A low moan of pleasured pain escaped his lips as he felt his body sliding to the ground beside Draco's sleeping form.

The cool tiles of the bathroom floor made him hiss as they pressed against his over heated flesh. His stomach fluttered dangerously making his quickly pull his hand from Draco's chest and press it against his mouth. The waves of pleasure were overriding his system but then --

The sensation faded. Completely.

/What?/ Harry thought hollowly as his body continued to shake from the left over jolts of magic. It was as if a gate had been slammed close, cutting off the pulse that had seconds before riddled his body with excruciating ecstasy.

Panting, Harry stared hard at the side of Draco's head. What the hell was going on? Never before had something like that happened to him. Only this morning when the blonde showed up had it started...

/Merlin, was that just this morning? / He thought fuzzily. It seemed ridiculous to think so after all the things that he'd been through during those few hours.

/I need a vacation./ was his only thought as he forced his eyes to refocus.

Allowing his self one short minute of rest, the Gryffindor waited for his pounding heart to slow before pushing himself up to his knees once again. Pressing a hand to his forehead, he wiped away the sweat that had gathered there even as he licked his upper lip.

/I have to write Professor Dumbledore -- I have to. No matter if I can't find the right words to tell him what's going on. / He thought ignoring the bang of --hesitation? -- in his heart. He knew that it was the logical thing to do. Obviously something was going on here; something more than his one time archenemy showing up beaten to a bloody pulp. Even if Harry had been a muggle, he would be hard pressed not to feel the magic that had flooded the air moments ago. As a practicing wizard, however, it almost choked him with it's thickness.

Regardless of the fact that magic having no real smell or taste, with the amount that had just happened within this one tiny bathroom, it should have.

/Worry about it later! Get moving, you git! You need to get him cleaned and back into your room before the Dursley's get back! And before whatever that was, happens again. / A frantic voice rattled in his head. It was enough to make Harry nod.

Tonight, when he had time, he would decide what to do. He would think up a plan or at least write Professor Dumbledore but for now, he needed to worry about Draco.

And with that, as if nothing at all unusual happened - fore what would be accomplished if he dwelled on it - Harry went back to bathing Draco; rolling him to his sides (though he didn't wake up) to get the grim of his back. Harry was thankful to see that there was barely any damage there other than a few fading bruises. Apparently whoever had hurt Draco had attacked him from the front, only allowing the boy to protect his back. That along gave Harry some small morsel of relief...

/I would never forgive myself if someone had hexed him from the back. / He mused, mind still partially muddled from the wave of magical energy as he resettled Draco into his former position.

Now, that only left Draco's lower half.

"I hope you'll forgive me, Draco..." Harry murmured as he began to undue Draco's be-ragged trousers. Taking great care not to wake the boy, Harry pulled the fabric down his legs with a clinical like calm he had seen Madame Pomfrey use the few times he had had to endure being undressed by the aging medi-witch. Every now and then, he was forced to stop as the fabric seemed to stick to whatever was underneath. His fingers shook, though he wasn't sure if it was due to restraint or fear for what he might see.

Harry's stomach fluttered nervously as he tugged the last leg free. Draco's legs were smooth a silk even though they were withered and bruised. The creamy skin was pale and hairless as the day he was born and it seemed to be a natural state of affairs for them to be so.

Swallowing thickly, Harry's stomach somersaulted as he, for the first time, let his eyes trail up the legs, thighs...

His mouth went dry, cheeks burning. Draco didn't wear any underwear.

"Oh..." He croaked, quickly averting his eyes for Draco's' and his own sake. Snatching one of the fresh towels nearby, he quickly placed it delicately over the blonde. Once the temptation to look had dimmed slightly, Harry forced himself to adopt, what he hoped was, a vague clinical manner and cleaned the smooth hairless legs.

All too soon he found himself patting the moisture off the boy's body and grabbing a small tube of crushed _'immortelle' _to smooth over Draco's cuts. For the most part the crushed flowers were only used (as far as he knew from Madame Pomfrey) for broken bones but from his own experience he knew it held other healing qualities.

What they were, he couldn't say but he felt confident that if it worked for him while in mid-quidditch season then it would work for Draco now. He only hoped it hadn't gone bad.

"Almost there." He murmured, wiping his fingers on a spare rag before turning and grabbing the change of clothes he had brought. They weren't much to look at; just a very oversized pair of sweat pants and a worn tee shirt but they were better than what Draco had had.

/I'll have to burn those./ Harry ruminated, picking up the wasted clothes and dumping them on the pile that he made before turning and manipulating Draco's body into the fresh set of worn out tee shirt and pants.

He couldn't help a small smile at the picture Draco made. Though his hair was still shaggy and more than a little dirty, he looked like a little boy in the oversized clothes. A very badly treated one but none the less, he looked very fetching.

/I'd probably get the trademark Malfoy glare if he knew what I was thinking.../

The young wizard thought, indulging in an image of that very glare in his mind. He cut the thought short. Now was not the time to daydream.

/All right./ He thought, eyes dancing around the small room as he took in inventory of the mess he had made while bathing Draco. He needed to make sure to clean it. Soon. But for now, he would worry about that after he had taken care of Draco.

Squatting down, Harry picked up the blonde much as he had before and carried him back to his room. The boy seemed disturbingly lighter without some of the filth that had covered him.

/Sweet Merlin./ Harry thought. How could the blonde have lived like this? There was nothing there; just skin hanging onto bone.

Somberly, the Gryffindor settled Draco into his bed, pulling the thin coverlet over his form. A sigh escaped the blonde's lips as he immediately snuggled his head into Harry's pillow.

"Congratulations, Draco. You've definitely done what no one else could. You made me happy to be the Boy-Who-Lived for the first time in my life." Harry whispered before turning back to the door way to trudge back to what he needed to do.

Harry paused in the doorway to stare at the sleeping boy's form, the distant echo of the pleasure in his scar flickering before he turned to go make tea and clean the bathroom.


	16. Chapter 15

**Author's Note**: Sorry for the delay in posting. I'm suffering from a bout of heat exhaustion. 100F+ days, every day, can sneak up on you.

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**Chapter 15**

The night found Harry sitting at his desk, staring intently at Draco's sleeping form.

Glimmers of moonlight slithered through the window, illuminating the boy's white-blonde hair to make a halo around his gaunt face. Every now and then his cheeks would twitch as though a wisp of a nightmare was coming upon him but then would smooth after he buried his face in Harry's pillow and filled his senses with the raven haired boy's scent.

The implication of that, if nothing else, tore at Harry's heart more than he cared to admit. As it was, if Draco had sought out Harry, even if he hadn't consciously known it, that would mean... that would be as if --

/As if he only felt safe with me./ Harry thought, running a shaky hand through his hair. That thought alone was enough to make the Gryffindor want to run out the room and hide until someone came to collect Draco.

He'd never had anyone who relied on him.

Oh sure, he'd had people admire him, praise him, hell, a few even "looked-up" to him but never before had someone truly rely on him. Some might say that he had more than half of the Wizarding community relying on him for their safety but that was decidedly different. They weren't truly relying on _him._ They were relying on the abilities he had, whatever they were, to save them all. They were relying on his knowledge of magic, his courage in the face of evil; they were relying on the Boy-Who-Lived. Not Harry Potter.

Not Harry.

Draco on the other hand -- was. He was relying on Harry's physical and emotional strength; his knowledge of everyday life in both the Wizarding and muggle world. He was relying on Harry. Just Harry. Only Harry, at this point.

/ What if I fail him? /

That was a question that had been looming over the young wizard since just after he had settled Draco into his bed. He had tried not to think about it and had succeeded with all the distractions of cleaning and making sure he had things the boy would need -- until now. Now, all he had to distract him was the rise and fall of Draco's chest and the intrusive sounds of his Uncle's snoring. It wasn't enough.

/I can't fail him. I can't. I don't think I could live with myself if I did. / He thought reverently, the gravity of the situation settling itself heavily on his shoulders. If he failed Draco it could mean so many things. Not just for Draco or for himself but for everyone. For every wizard and witch in the magical world.

If Harry failed, he'd lose faith. Not just in the world but in his self. If he couldn't protect everyone from the clutches of the Dark Lord, how could he ever hope to protect Draco from -- everything?

/Wait...wait...you're putting Draco above everything and everyone? How can you do that? Yesterday you wouldn't have thought twice about throwing him in Azkaban with his father and in less than twenty-four hours you're...you're.../

This time the voice sounded so much like Ron that Harry had to smile but it faded almost as quickly as it came.

/I'm what? Willing to be the bigger man and put our childish antics behind me so I can take care of him? So I can make sure that something like this doesn't happen to anyone else?/ He argued, a frown creasing his brow.

A very Ron-like sigh came at him mentally along with.../You're cracked./

And he was. If being cracked meant that he was willing to take care of Draco then he would proudly wear that name.

"Going to take care of you like no one has before..." Harry murmured, gliding from his chair to kneel beside the bed. Reaching out a sure hand, he ran it down the length of Draco's supple spine that was (conveniently) exposed to him.

"You don't know what you're doing to me, Draco." He continued on conversationally, not minding at all the he was speaking to the back of the blonde's head. "Everything that I've built-up towards you in the last couple of years at Hogwarts, you've managed to shatter in the span of less than a day."

"I don't know if you planned it that way. I hope not. If you did…I really don't think you did. If you had, you wouldn't have shown up to me so…so, vulnerable. You took a chance on me and by the stars I'm happy you did..."

Harry moved from his kneeling position to, as gently as he could manage, slide onto the bed behind the boy. He didn't crawl beneath the covers. It was a warm enough night. Harry continued on --

"I'm sorry that all this had to happen to you, Draco. No matter if your parents were or were not involved with the Death Eaters and Voldemort in some way or another. No one should have to deal with that. No one. And, I know that it doesn't mean much to you for me to say but -- if I could, I would have spared you the pain. I know you'd probably think that I don't know the pain. I never really knew my mother and father. But I do...I do know the pain. Or at least the fear. I live with it everyday of my life."

Thoughts of Sirius, his still on-the-run godfather, rushed through his mind. Ever since those few short moments with his godfather, Harry had rarely seen him.

Sure, he had seen his godfather in secret and was writing to him regularly but it wasn't the same. Every day Harry lived in fear that he would get a note from Ron or Hermione, or even pick up the Daily Prophet and see that the man had been captured and was going to receive the Dementor's kiss.

Harry didn't hold to the illusion that he could save the wayward man again. It had been only a stroke of pure luck that he had done it once. Not that Harry believed in luck anymore. Luck was for muggle kids who had dreams of becoming a star. Not for the boy who had the fate of the entire Wizarding world resting on his fingertips.

"Sometimes..." Harry started, pulling himself closer to Draco as he tried to think of the right words. "Sometimes I wonder if this all isn't a game of some kind. That someone's going to jump out from behind a corner, point and finger and laugh like a loon while someone else tells me this has all been made up. That dragons and magic and _Voldemort_ are all just some game that they made up to test me. Test to see how well I'll be able to deal with real life because everyone knows it's made of madness and tea parties..."

Harry again moved closer to Draco till his chest was pressed flush against the boy's back.

"But I'll tell you one thing Draco Malfoy, if this is a game and we're all just pawns in the whole grand scheme of things...I hope to God, Merlin or whoever is willing to listening, that you and I aren't. That whatever is happening between us isn't some...some amusement from fate."

With that final sentiment hanging in the air, Harry Potter, the boy who lived, slipped into a dream-filled sleep.


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Morning came all too early for Harry the next day. The sounds of his Uncle's bumbling about in their bathroom, of his Aunt saying she was going to make her "Duddlykins" some breakfast and the sound of his cousin making pig-like noises as he tried to wake-up were the second thing that came into Harry's sense.

The first was the cool weight snuggled against his side, the breath wafting warmly across his chest and the silky strands of hair that were brushing the underside of his chin. Harry smiled.

/I wouldn't take him for a snuggler.../ He mused sleepily as he tightened his hold around the blonde and tried to will away the sounds of everyday life. It was easier said then done. For some reason everything sounded amplified by twenty. /Probably because I want to stay in bed./

The young wizard allowed himself to stay in bed for ten more glorious minutes before nature and morning-breath made him wiggle his way out from beside Draco (a tough task since Draco had wrapped himself around Harry and had decided that the raven haired boy was, indeed, his property) and started collecting his morning ritual items.

It wasn't a tough task since most of the items he needed were still stacked on the corner of his desk where he had left them when he had cleaned the bathroom the night before.

"Maybe I should keep you around Draco." Harry teased the still sleeping boy as he opened his closet to pull out a new set of clothes. "With you here, I'm a little more organized."

"I d-doubt that Potter." A sleepy voice murmured from behind him. Harry spun on his heels to see Draco looking at him with sleep messed eyes and hair that was trying to do a fair imitation of his name. Harry stared for a moment before --

"How are you feeling?"

The blonde pulled a face and carefully rolled into the warm spot the Gryffindor had left behind. "Just p-peachy."

Setting the clothes he had picked out on the end of the bed, Harry moved forward, by passing the bed to sit on the desk chair. "I'm serious, Draco."

A glare was thrown his way. "So am I."

"Draco -- " Harry began but was cut off by a long suffering sigh.

"I'm knackered. All r-right? I feel like a m-moutain troll has been using me as a t-t-target." The Slytherin huffed, cuddling Harry's pillow close and closing his eyes.

Harry nodded, ignoring the warmth that spread through his chest. "Are you -- do you think that you could stomach some toast this morning?"

Draco pried open one eye and peered at Harry. "Maybe."

Harry gave a supportive smile. "Okay. I'll get you some after I wash up."

"O-okay." Draco mumbled still peering at Harry with, now, two confused gray eyes. The gryffindor just continued to smile. Then...

"Why are you b-being so n-nice to me?"

Harry's smile didn't waver. He had been expecting this question sometime, maybe not so soon but he was expecting it.

"Why shouldn't I?"

The blonde looked at him skeptically. "L-last time I checked you d-didn't like me much."

"I think the same can be said for you, Malfoy." Harry pointed out bemused. Draco looked away abashed. Minutes ticked away as the Gryffindor waited for a reply of some kind but when none was forth coming he got up and went back to gathering items.

Once he had his things gathered he turned back to the other boy. "I'm going to go wash up and then get you some toast. Try not getting into any trouble. I'll be back soon." Harry promised while he opened the door.

"N-never said I didn't l-like you..." The voice was so soft Harry had to strain to hear it. Harry felt his chest tighten as he glanced over his shoulder but the blonde was already burrowing himself back into the blankets, back to the door.

This time Harry didn't even try to fight the smile that bloomed across his face. "I'll be back soon." He promised again before walking out the door, making sure to shut the door behind him securely. It wouldn't do for him to come back and find his Aunt or worse yet, his cousin bothering the blonde.

/That's not your only concern./

No, it wasn't. He wasn't just shutting the door to keep his relatives out. He was shutting the door to keep a certain blonde Slytherin in; to make sure that Draco didn't, by some chance of Salazar, get enough energy to hobble his way out of Harry's room and, just maybe, out of his life.

The Gryffindor wouldn't stand for that. /No way in hell or high water I'm letting him go now. Not when I just found him. Merlin knows what could happen to him if he went back out there.../


	18. Chapter 17

Author's Note: For those who might be interested, I will be consolidating all of my fan fiction, original works, and graphics at my new insane journal. You can find the link by going to my profile and clicking the 'homepage' link. Cheers!

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**Chapter 17**

When Harry was finally able to return to his bedroom, he found to his great delight that Draco was still awake. In bed, but still awake and very anxious if the twisted little frown on his face was any indication.

"Miss me?" Harry asked nonchalantly, pretending not to notice the way relief shinned over the blonde's features when he realized Harry had come back like he had promised.

"Ye--No. I was just w-wanting breakfast." The Slytherin sneered, a flush covering his cheeks. Harry wasn't fooled.

"Mmhmm, if you say so. I brought you a bit of toast and tea. There are some biscuits if you get hungry later." Harry murmured placing the tray he had taken for Draco's food on the side of the desk closest to the injured boy. It wasn't close enough for him to reach. "Here, let me help you sit up --"

"I can do it, Potter." Draco snapped, as he braced his hands on the bed and tried to scoot himself into the sitting position. He failed. Tried again. Failed. Again, same result. A snarl of frustration escaped his lips.

Harry wisely chose to keep silent as he slipped his hands beneath Draco's arms and hefted him to the top of the bed. This wasn't much of a challenge since Draco hadn't had the chance to gain any weight. A detail that Harry was planning to remedy very, very soon.

After all the years that Harry had spent cooking for his relatives, he did a fairly good job. In all truth, he did a smashing good job. He hadn't over cooked, under cooked or even charred an item of food in more than six years. Professor Dumbledore had even said he could probably rival a master chef if someone were to put a recipe in front of him. He took great pride in that, even if Professor Dumbledore was a little bit more than biased.

So the shaggy haired boy had no worries that he could do the job of fattening Draco up in no time...

"Something you w-want?" Draco's amused voice asked a mere breath away. Harry started. He hadn't realized that he was still holding Draco.

"Um--I...No. No, I just was thinking." He floundered. Clearing his throat, he pulled back and picked up the cup and saucer. "Tea's a bit stronger today."

Draco smirked as best he could at Harry before he accepted the cup. "Thanks."

Harry looked away casually, watching the other boy from beneath his lashes. Draco took a slow sip and the smirk melted into a genuine smile. "Y-you put more honey in it t-this time?"

Harry couldn't help but smile as he nodded. He had made sure to specifically put more after hearing Draco comment the night before, when a case of temporary insomnia had arose, that he rarely got honey in his tea. His father had never liked sweetened tea so those in the Manor usually got only tea with a wedge of lemon. "I figured the sweetness would give you a bit more energy." He lied easily.

Watching to make sure the boy took another sip; Harry turned back to the tray and picked up the napkin with the two slices of toast. He waited for Draco to drink a bit more before exchanging the one with the other.

"Chew slow. You don't want to get sick."

The blonde nodded, beginning to nibble at the edge of one of the pieces of toast his eyes down cast. If there was something in particular on his mind, he didn't say and Harry was loath to ask. He wanted to give Draco some time to just...be...before getting into the nitty gritty of the situation.

"You're stutter is getting better." Harry commented. He just wanted to have something to say. The silence was unsettling.

Draco looked up at Harry nervously, chewing slowly on a bit of toast.

Harry lifted an eyebrow. "What? It is."

The Slytherin shook his head and looked back down again. Harry knitted his brow.

"What is it?"

Putting down the piece of toast he had, Draco licked his lips and stared at Harry till he shifted uncomfortably.

"Well?"

"Y-you think this st-stutter is from the curse, d-don't you?" Draco murmured softly. The gryffindor's face scrunched in confusion.

"Well, yeah. I mean, I know that at the end of the school year you didn't have one so..." Harry shrugged.

Draco shook his head again and sighed. "I-I've had a stutter all my life."

Harry stared. "You're lying. I've heard you. I've..."

Draco silenced him with a glare. "It's t-true that I don't stutter. When I was l-little my mother got me a p-private tutor. He t-taught me how to c-control it. Between him a-and my father teaching 

me the stiff-upper lip etiquette t-that all Malfoy's are suppose to have..." Draco shrugged. "I o-only stutter now when I can't c-control my em-emotions."

Harry tugged on a lock of his hair thoughtfully. "But when you're angry you don't stutter. I should know."

Draco grimaced. "When I'm angry it's t-the one time I'm in control of e-everything."

Harry tugged his hair again and leaned back in the chair he had sat in. "You know..." He said more to himself than Draco. "I can see that. I mean I've seen you angry. Hells more times than I can count you were angry with me. You seem so...intense, when you are. Like you're focusing everything that you are into it."

Draco smiled vaguely. "I do."

Harry cracked a smile back. "I'm sure."

A blush rose on the blonde's cheeks. It looked nice against his pale skin. If Harry did say so himself.

"H-how about you, H-harry? Got any d-dirty little secrets you want to share?" Draco asked suddenly. Harry grinned.

"Just eat your toast Draco."


	19. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

The hours passed in a slow haze for Harry that day. After breakfast, Draco hadn't had enough energy to do more than give Harry a meager "thank you" before rolling over and slipping back into an exhausted sleep even before his head hit the pillow. Something of which Harry was more than thankful for.

Not that he was averse to Draco's company but the blonde desperately needed the sleep. Even with the potions that Harry had forced on the boy and the _woundwort _he had applied after Draco fell asleep,he wasn't healing as well as Harry had hoped he would.

Being a quidditch player, more specifically a seeker, Harry wasn't a stranger to neither injuries nor the remedies to cure them. Muggle or otherwise. But none of these were doing the job he knew they were capable of. They just weren't working.

/I knew I should have stocked up on more supplies before I left!/ Harry fumed as he stared at the sheet just beneath Draco's fingers. /Half of what I had was probably spoiled. God I can be such a prat sometimes!/

Harry sighed. This wasn't good. This definitely wasn't good. If he didn't get Draco the proper help that he needed then who knew what could happen...Infections were tricky things for wizards. Complications always arose when normal muggle medicine couldn't do the trick.

For muggles, an infection was a simple matter of going to the doctors and getting the right amount of medicine to fight it. If that didn't work then further measures could be taken. Not so for a wizard.

Due to the magic abilities that every witch and wizard had from birth, regular muggle remedies weren't enough. They weren't strong enough, that is. Of course, they could be used if need be. The sick wizard or witch would have to take more than triple the amount than a normal muggle child but they could still work effectively if taken right.

However, everything held a certain amount of danger. Every cut, every scrap that went untreated for a wizard could mean death for not only the wizard but for others. As strange as it was, wizard's, Harry had found, had a backlash law to them.

An example of this was the times that Harry's emotions took control and made him do magical things without realizing it; which was why it was so important for every magically gifted child to go to Hogwarts or some such school. They taught you how to harness the magic and control it from day to day.

The law held true even when a wizard was sick, which meant that if Harry didn't help Draco in some way, the boy's magic could backlash on them both. Causing them either to die (an unlikely possibility since they had both survived through an unforgivable curse) or leave them as shells of their former self; magic vegetables that may never be able to come back.

/I'm going to have to write Dumbledore. I have no other choice./ Harry thought, pressing his back against the back of his desk chair. /It's too dangerous for us both if I don't write him, I need to write him…/ But with every repetition of that in Harry's mind, he couldn't bring himself to pull out his quill, ink and parchment.

After all, what would Dumbledore do other than take away Draco from Harry…

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He didn't want to think about that. It may have only been forty-eight hours since Draco had come into his life so vulnerable but the thought of giving him up to anyone, even Dumbledore, was too much.

/He came to me, no one else. If he wanted their help he would have went to them or at least told me…/

A sliver of uncertainty settled in the pit of Harry's stomach though. It hadn't exactly been Draco's choice where he ended up, as far as Harry knew. And he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about asking Draco if he wanted him to contact to anyone…

/Bloody hell./ Harry thought solemnly. He hadn't even put a thought to contacting someone for Draco. What if there was some relative Harry didn't know about worrying about if Draco was dead or alive?

That resolved Harry. He would write Dumbledore and tell him what happened. The wise old wizard would know what to do…

Pulling out quill, ink and parchment, Harry set to writing.

/This is for the best. Even if Professor Dumbledore takes him away…/ A pang ran straight through Harry's heart causing him to look over at Draco's sleeping form. His cheeks were rosy pink in sleep as he made small contented noises in his chest as he sucked his thumb.

/I can't let them take him away from me. Not yet./ He thought, throwing his quill down onto the desk, disgusted with his indecisiveness. /They won't take care of him like I can. Who would be there when he's scared? Who would understand?/

But Harry already knew that answer. No one. No one at Hogwart's, aside from Harry himself, knew what it was like to be alone and different. They didn't know what it was like to have people stare at you as if you were some kind of potions project or, worse yet, some kind of miracle. They didn't know what it was like to have your every step watched; to have to look over your shoulder every time you had to use the loo.

But Harry knew. He knew exactly how it was and how sick of it you could get in such a short time.

/I can't just abandon him. No matter what I have to face, I'll do it. I'll stay by his side./


	20. Chapter 19

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**Chapter 19**

By the time Draco awoke again, afternoon tea and the evening meal had well passed. In fact it was half past midnight when his eyes finally began to flutter open, giving Harry enough warning so he could draw closer to the bed. (He had been leaning leisurely just underneath the window with his broomstick servicing kit and Firebolt across his lap.)

"Ugh..." Draco groaned, pulling his thumb out of his mouth in an unceremonious slurp. Harry fought down a grin. Draco could be so damn maddening sometimes.

"Feeling better?" He asked carefully. Draco scowled at him. Oh yes, Draco was definitely fetching with his hair sticking out in all directions and his cheek red where his hand had pressed against it in sleep.

"W-what time is it?" The blonde demanded. Harry glanced down at his wristwatch. It had been a gift from the Weasleys a year ago, even though it was a normal muggle watch. Ron's father had gotten quite a kick about that. "Like it Harry? Bought it all by myself! Went to a muggle merchant and everything!" He had beamed while Ron tried to hide his face behind a Cuddley Cannon's magazine. Harry had loved it. "Half past midnight."

Draco blinked owlishly up at Harry. "Half p-past midnight." He repeated. Disbelief was etched across his face.

"Mmm." Harry confirmed as he settled on the side of the bed. "You've been asleep since about...eight this morning."

Draco blinked again, letting his head fall back down onto the pillow. He stared at the ceiling. "Why d-d-didn't you wake me?"

It was Harry's turn to frown. "Why would I? You needed the rest."

"B-but I'm in y-your bed."

"So?"

Draco rolled his head to the side to look at Harry. "Y-you need to sleep too."

Harry smiled. "I will. I just wanted to give you a little longer before I got into bed..."

"Oh." Seconds passed as Draco contemplated Harry before he scooted over a little.

Harry raised an eyebrow. What did that mean...?

"You n-need sleep too." Draco repeated simply. Harry's heart swelled.

/He's worried about me!/ Harry beamed as he quickly went back over to his broomstick. As fast as he could, Harry shoved the contents of his servicing kit back in, trying to get his brain to work well enough so he wouldn't break anything. The feel of Draco's eye burning into his back was distracting him...

/Now isn't the time to get nervous Potter! You're just going to share a bed with him.../ Harry's cheeks burned red. /Sharing a bed to sleep...just sleep./

Snapping the kit closed, Harry shoved it in the corner before picking up his Firebolt and leaning it in the corner beside it. Normally he would have put his broom in the small closet or under the bed but at the moment he didn't want to have to take the time.

/Calm down. I need to calm down. He didn't ask me anything special. He didn't even bloody ask me anything. He was just being polite.../ The gryffindor thought, trying to slow his racing pulse. It worked...for just as long as it took him to turn around.

The tee shirt that Harry had given Draco to sleep in had ridden up to reveal the pale contours of his stomach. The horrible welts and bruises that had been there only a few hours before had receded down into angry red lines and healing shades of green. Not nearly as healed as Harry would hope but it was a small victory. Not only that but the few meager meals that Harry had been able to get into Draco's system had succeeded in making his stomach go to its semi-normal size.

Harry's gaze traveled up to Draco's face on its own accord. Steely gray eyes stared back, hard as ice but with an unnamable vulnerability just beneath the surface. They were the eyes that Harry had seen a million time while in school, though he had never before took the time to take a closer look. The change to Harry's perspective was enough to make his scar begin to tingle...

It was almost as if...

"Going t-to get that, Harry?" Draco asked, gesturing to the window with a tilt of his head even though his eyes never left Harry's.

Harry blinked. "Uhm?"

Draco looked amused. "I s-said, are you g-going to get that?" Again Draco gestured to the window.

"Umm."

"The owl, Harry. Let the owl in." Draco murmured, finally turning his gaze away from Harry and to the window. In which caused Harry to realize there was an insistent tapping against the glass.

Turning his own gaze to the window, he started as he saw the molting brown owl fluttering outside his window using it's beak to try to get their attention.

"Bollocks." Harry muttered, hurrying over to the window to pull it open. He knew he shouldn't have shut it after Hedwig came back...

The owl gave a hoot of thanks before flying into the room to perch next to Hedwig. It held out it's claw for Harry to detach the rolled piece of parchment.

"W-who's it from?" Draco asked, struggling to push himself up into the sitting position. Harry shrugged, moving back to his side to push the other boy back down.

"We'll see..." He said, already unfurling the note. What Harry saw made his breath catch...

_Dear Harry,_

_Sorry I haven't written in so long. I've been on the move. I can't tell you where I am, of course, but I will say that I'm close. I don't know if Ron or Hermione have been keeping you up to date about what's going on in the world but strange things have been happening. _

_Lucius Malfoy and his wife have been killed. No one really knows why but I'm betting it had something to do with You-Know-Who. I always thought that greasy bastard had something to do with them. There's no word about his son yet. Probably ran off to get the dark mark. Watch yourself; I know you two don't exactly get along. _

_Also, try not to go out too much. Keep close to home. I wrote Dumbledore about some of the things I've heard and seen...I asked him if he could move you out of your Uncle and Aunt's and back into Hogwarts. It's getting too dangerous for you to be alone._

_Once I get his answer I'll write more. Until then know that I'm going to be watching._

_Love, _

_Snuffles_


	21. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

The moment Harry was finished reading the last lines of the letter, a ball of dread coiled in his stomach so tightly he felt as though ice was seeping through his veins. His chest felt as though a thousand ton weight had settled atop it. Sirius, his godfather, was keeping watch over him. Which could only mean...

/He can't know that Draco's here. Not yet. He would have said something -- done something./ The raven haired Gryffindor thought, even as his eyes moved to look at the other boy's inquiring face. /He wouldn't have cared about being spotted if he thought I was in some kind of danger.../

A thread a fear bloomed in the young man's heart. What if his godfather tried to...do...something to Draco, when and if the man found out the blonde was here with him?

It was no secret that his godfather detested anything and everything to do with Lucius Malfoy. Over the years, especially after Harry's third year, hat burning abhorrence had come to include the now battered blonde. Sirius had yet to forgive the Slytherin for scaring his godson during the Quidditch match; no matter how many times his godson had insisted it wasn't a big deal.

"We-well? Who was it f-from, Harry?" Draco demanded, snapping Harry out of his own thoughts. The Gryffindor felt his stomach bunch further still as he glanced over to see steely eyes shinning with trepidation.

The Gryffindor shook his head slowly, looking back down at the letter clutched between his fingers. He didn't know what he could say to the blonde. It wasn't as if he could just come clean to the boy and tell him who the letter was from...could he?

No, definitely not...yet.

/You're doing this for his own good, Harry. If he knew about Sirius then he'd be in even more danger. They could use him if something happens./

Absolved of making another decision for the moment, Harry stood and moved over to tin trash bin. Carefully, he folded the parchment into fourths and tapped the center of it three times with his finger tips. Instantly the paper flamed blue-green and turned into a smoldering pile of ash and floated down to the bottom of the bin.

The Gryffindor nodded in satisfaction before turning to pick up the water jug. Tipping it gently, he poured a small amount of water over the ash until it became a swirling pool of gray. That done, Harry sat the jug down again.

"Where the bloody h-hell did you learn that?" Draco questioned seconds later, obviously impressed by the small show of magic the Gryffindor had done without the aid of his wand.

Harry forced a tight smile. "Dumbledore taught it to me after my fourth year."

For a moment, the Slytherin continued to stare before trailed to the trash bin full of murky water. He nodded minutely.

Harry bit back a sigh. He could almost see the wheels turning in the blonde's head. /Here we go./

On cue, Draco's eyes turned to Harry again. "Why did you p-pour the water on it?"

Harry lifted a brow in surprise. That wasn't what he'd been expecting but..."A wizard with enough spell knowledge could turn the ash back into the original letter. Adding the water to the ash makes it practically impossible."

"Practically?" Draco echoed. Harry nodded.

"The natural minerals in the water help distort the writing if they succeeded in bringing it back to its original state. The ink would be distorted so much so that all the caster would have was a piece of parchment with runny lines of ink down it."

The blonde nodded thoughtfully, his eyes reverting back to where they had been. Minutes stretched as he studied it, a crease of confusion filtering across his face before long.

/And here it comes.../ The Gryffindor thought, apprehension curling inside him.

"Why would y-you need to burn it though? W-who was it from?"

Harry's chest tightened. He still didn't know what he could say to Draco. He didn't want to lie to the boy. It didn't feel right to. Not now, anyway. Not with Draco so vulnerable that he was bearing part of his soul every time he told Harry something about what happened. But, he knew, if he didn't lie, he wouldn't be able to protect the other boy and that was something he was going to do at all costs.

"It was from Hermione." Harry supplied, turning his back to the blonde so he wouldn't have to look at the other boy's face as he lied.

"Oh..." The blonde mumbled, his voice still colored with slight confusion. Seconds ticked by as the two didn't say more, allowing Harry the time to put the trash bin back on the floor. Normally he would have gone and dumped the bit of water down the loo but this time he wasn't compelled to do so. Even if it would give him time to think...

"W-why did you b-burn it though?"

Harry took his time answering. What possible reason would he have for burning a letter that was, supposedly, from one of his best friends? It wouldn't make sense. Not unless Draco was gullible enough to buy into the only explanation Harry could think of...?

"I don't like leaving my letters around for anyone to read. It's not safe. Plus, I don't have the space to keep every little note I get from this. It saves space." He murmured, busying himself with the contents on the desk.

"Oh. Well, that makes sense." The blonde said mildly, settling back down onto the bed.

/Apparently he is./


	22. Chapter 21

**Author's Note**: Many thanks to those who well wished my family and for those who posted lovely reviews; I appreciate and cherish both. Also, for those who asked, I won't start posting this story on my insane journal (thequietdawn) until I have all the current chapters posted. :)

* * *

**Chapter 21**

The next week was sheer and utter hell for the raven haired Gryffindor. Between trying to take care of Draco and worrying himself sleepless about the possibility of his godfather barging into the room and demanding an explanation -- he was very nearly ready to beg Voldemort to attack. At least then he wouldn't be so damn edgy.

It was as if he was in some morbid game that fate had cooked up with Harry as the star player. It was annoying and scary and made Harry almost wish that his life was normal. Almost. But the worst part was that the feeling of frustration was starting to become so familiar to him that he felt as though he should adopt it as his middle name.

Every night was the same; He would sit at the chair he had placed by his window and watch Draco sleep. Every now and again he would let his eyes travel to the world beyond the glass, wondering when he would see the dark unmoving figure of his godfather. And with each night that passed with no sign, he become more frustrated.

It was driving him insane. A few times he had come to the breaking point of telling Draco the real reasons for his nightly vigils and to hell with the consequences...but he didn't and he wouldn't. The less Draco knew, the safer he was.

However, on the brighter side (if there was one...), Draco was slowly regaining his strength and his former physique. Both physically and mentally he was better than he had been since the first day even though he wasn't anywhere near as stable as he used to be.

Despite that, it was as if in the handful of days that had passed, Draco had under-gone an almost painful transformation. He had gained a tint of color (as much color as the boy could), his stomach had smoothed to reveal worn but toned muscle and the scars that had marred his flesh were faded to almost nothing.

It was a startling change from how he had looked when Harry had first walked out on the doorstep to find him. Hell, it was a startling change from the boy Harry knew Draco to be. Long gone was the cocky blonde Slytherin who lived to torment Harry. Instead, in his place, was a shy but snarky boy whom would give Harry the tiniest of smiles when woke him in the morning.

The transformation rocked the Gryffindor to the core.

A whole new side of Draco was being shown to him and he had no idea what to do with it. Oh sure, Draco was still Draco and Harry had no doubt that he was just as cunning and manipulative as he ever was. But, there was something there. Something that Harry had never seen before. Whether it had been there the entire time or it was a recent development, he didn't know, but Harry cherished the glimpse he was given none-the-less.

He was under no misguided impression that Draco knew what he was doing. This could very well be the last time that Harry saw the blonde act anything but disdainful to him. But that didn't 

matter. Harry was getting shown a side of Draco that could make the strongest man weep with some unknown emotion.

This was the real Draco. Not that haughty Malfoy that he presented to the world but a scared little boy whom now had nothing and no one to hold on to. It was a boy who needed to be cherished for everything he was...the good and the bad. And Harry would be damned if he let anyone treat the Slytherin otherwise.

"H-harry come to bed." Draco's sleepy voice murmured quietly from across the room, pulling Harry out of his own musing. "It's c-cold."

Harry smiled. If Draco only knew what he said when he was half asleep...

"I will in a bit, Draco." He murmured back, watching as the blonde peeled open one sleep fuzzed eye to look at him. He gave Harry a tiny smile.

"Hmm...m'kay."

The eyelid fluttered back down and within seconds Draco was back in a peaceful sleep, oblivious to everything but his small warm spot in the world. Harry sighed.

Who ever had said ignorance was bliss sure knew what they were talking about.


	23. Chapter 22

**Chapter 22**

The next morning Harry was out of bed and dressed before the first rays of sunlight spilled in through his window. He was too jittery to stay in bed longer. Every bit of cloth that touched his skin seemed as though it were trying to suffocate him. Even the flimsy night shirt he had on was like a blanket of steel, smothering him.

That was why he now stood shirtless in the mid-morning sunlight, a faded pair of blue jeans his best friend Ron had given him hanging low on his hips. Every now and again he would let his arms unfurl from where they were curled around his chest to sweep aside the be ragged curtains to check if there was someone there.

He didn't think there would be but -- you never know. Even when you _know_, you never really _know._ He had learnt that the hard way. A shudder ran through his body, remembering the last Defense Against the Dark Arts class he had attended the year before.

They had gotten a new professor, as per usual, for the class. Her name had been Madame Artanis and she was even worse than Snape, if possible. She drilled them daily about things that they had yet to learn and given them weekly pop quizzes on different sections of the supernatural. Even Hermione had been hard pressed to scrap through that year relatively unscathed. Especially since Madame Artanis liked to give them nasty surprises.

One in particular still stuck with Harry till this day. He had walked into class already prepared for the worst since he was running five minutes late when, what did he find? All the young men in the room fawning over, none other than, a real life veela while Madame Artanis had looked on with immense amusement. She'd been given her notice three days later and the class had been taken over by Professor McGonagall.

It had definitely been a more pleasant experience after that but everyone was still a bit shaken up since most of the young men hadn't been able to get from under the veela's control for quite some time. Most of them had suddenly taken ill, choosing to stay hidden in their dorm room instead of having to face the sometimes angry, sometimes amused comments from their fellow classmates.

Except...

/Except Draco./ Harry thought, letting himself form a mental picture of that day. His eyes slipped close as he thought on it. He remembered running neck-or-nothing down the hall, his school robes flapping behind him, as he tried to make it to DADA class before he got caught by Feltch or worse, Snape. When he finally reached the class, after almost crashing into a statue that liked to move from place to place randomly, Harry had thrown open the door to find the strangest scene of his life: fifteen Slytherin and Gryffindor boys bowing, dancing, and, in some cases, flexing their muscles in front of a Veela that was swaying her hips seductively at them. Harry's books dropped to the ground unnoticed in his shock. The noise was enough to attract the attention of Hermione and a few other girls whom were looking on angrily at all of the men of the respective houses.

The bushy haired girl had come running to Harry's side and dragged him out the class room, muttering something about how she couldn't stand to see Harry act like a "complete and utter ass" as well. Harry had gone willing but not before he saw Draco Malfoy, standing in the back of the class looking annoyed as hell.

/Why hadn't the veela bothered him?/ Harry mused, raising his face to the sun and stroking fingers through his hair. He tried to recall the memory of his fourth year when he went to the quidditch world cup with the Weasleys but even as he tried to remember if Draco had been affected by the veela's then, he couldn't. That part of the world cup was a blur.

/Maybe everyone's right about him.../ Harry reflected, opening his eyes once again. Ever since the World Cup there had been rumors that the Malfoy's had some veela blood in them. Harry had dismissed them at the time. For Merlin's sake, Draco...a veela? It was too ridiculous.

/He does look it though./

Harry turned, leaning his back against the corner of the window, sunlight shinning over half his face and body as he stared at the sleeping boy.

Draco's perfectly pale cheeks had small rosette splotches on them, his eyelids fluttered occasionally as he dreamed something unknown and his lithe body had wiggled it's way from beneath the sheet to lay just on the edge of sunlight, none of his skin actually touching but...

/He can't be a veela. Veela's are women. All of them./ He mused silently to himself. After the catastrophe in DADA, Professor McGonagall had taken it upon her self to devote an entire part of study to veela research. All the students soon found all the characteristics of them and how to fight them off. To say that Draco was a male veela was too much of a stretch of the imagination.

But even so, Harry couldn't help but be curious. Draco may not be a veela but there was definitely something there...something that made him different.

"W-why is it that every time I wake up, you're staring at me Potter?" Draco mumbled, turning his head and yawning into the pillow.

Harry just continued to stare, enjoying the pulsing in his scar as he watched Draco stretch. That's the way things were now. No matter if Harry was touching Draco or not, as long as he was in the boy's presence, his scar tingled. It was slowly growing to the point where, even if he wasn't in the same room as Draco, his scar would tingle.

It was oddly exhilarating. He couldn't help but wonder if the blonde felt the same. Was his scar tingling and sending bolts of pleasure through him as well? On more than one occasion Harry had seen Draco lying sprawled on the bed, using his fingertips to trace the jagged lightening bolt scar, staring at Harry with a contemplative look on his face.

"Potter? Harry?" Draco asked again, not bothering to tug down his sleep shirt as he sat up.

"You look like a veela." Harry blurted before he could stop himself. Instantly, his cheeks burned red. /Well that's what you get for letching over him instead of keeping your tongue./

He watched in humiliation as Draco arched a scarred brow (it had long since healed but still left his eye-brow spliced).

"I...I mean...that's what people say. You know since...I...er...I'm going to be quiet now." The Gryffindor stammered, his blush spreading down his neck and onto his chest. Draco gave a smoky chuckle.

"Y-you certainly like to put your foot in it, don't you?" The blonde asked, looking at Harry with bemused gray eyes. Harry just nodded dumbly, letting his eyes wander back out to the window. He could feel Draco's smiling eyes still on him but he couldn't bring himself to look back.

The sound of the bed sheets rustling was the only thing that forced Harry to look over again. The blonde was carefully standing on shaky legs. Despite Draco having regained most of his strength, it was still a precarious event when he chose to scuttle about the room.

"Do you need -- ?" Harry began but the Slytherin cut him off.

"You're wrong, you know."

"I'm -- huh?"

Draco smiled and shuffled towards Harry, using the desk chair to balance. "I don't look like a veela. I'm not one." He waved a hand, silencing the comment that had sprung to Harry's lips. " Despite what everyone seems to think. And I do know they say that about me, Harry. I don't mind."

Harry blushed again, suddenly feeling more than a little foolish. Draco just continued to smile at him gently.

"If you're looking for an explanation for why I look the way I do..." Draco shrugged, finally reaching Harry's side in the sunlight. "I've always looked this way. I don't know why. Does there have to be a reason?"

Harry shook his head, swallowing thickly. With Draco this close he could smell the blonde's wintergreen scent and feel the cool skin washing over his own. Without thought, Harry wrapped an arm loosely around Draco's waist under the pretense of helping the blonde stay steady. Draco smile widened as he turned to look outside.

In the sunlight, Draco's now shaggy hair shown white, his gray eyes sparkling in the sun to give them an unearthly glow. Desire welled in Harry, one that he couldn't quite put a name to and didn't think he wanted to just yet. He wanted to see Draco's scar -- touch it -- feel its shape.

Leaning closer till his warm breath ruffled Draco's wild hair; he lifted a hand and brushed it through the silky blonde locks that still smelled of Harry's shampoo. Since some of his strength had been gained back, Draco had demanded a shower almost every night...with Harry's aid, of course.

"Mmm...that feels good." Draco sighed, leaning more heavily against Harry's chest. Harry let out a low groan of pleasure as the Slytherin's cool skin slithered across his own sun-warmed chest and abs. This was truly as close to bliss as Harry had ever been.

On his own accord, the blonde rested his cheek against Harry's shoulder, wrapping one arm around the Gryffindor's middle. They were a perfect fit...just barely the same height but still a small enough difference so that they fit together like puzzle pieces.

A shiver ran down Harry's spine as pulled Draco closer with one arm and pressed his fingers into the blonde locks once again with the other. His breath caught as the lightening bolt, so similar to his own, came into view. How could something so simple be so...sexy?

"Draco..." Harry whispered, his breath ruffling the hair by the blonde's ear.

"Hmm?" Draco asked, his eyes slipping closed in pleasure. He was beginning to love being touched...at least by Harry.

"Can I...would you mind if I..." Harry voice trailed off as he sighed. How could he ask something like this...?

Draco rubbed his cheek against Harry's shoulder like a contented cat. "What is it?"

"Can I...touch you?" Harry whispered, his voice wavering slightly with nerves.

"You are t-touching me."

The Gryffindor buried his nose into Draco's hair. "No...I mean...your...the scar."

The blonde's movements stilled instantly. Harry held still, arms holding just as tightly as before but with just enough slack for if the other boy pulled away. He didn't.

"Just...t-touch it? Nothing else?"

Harry's chest clenched. Draco sounded so small just then.

"Just touch." He assured, rubbing small circles into Draco's back.

"O-o-okay."

Pleasure and relief coiled through Harry. This was a precious gift the blonde was giving him; showing that kind of trust to someone who would have normally been labeled enemy.

Holding his breath, Harry let his hand in the blonde's hair move down till his fingertips were pressed flush against the jagged scar. Draco stood stock still, pressed against him, not trying to pull away or press closer. Harry took that as encouragement.

Running his shaking fingers down it, he felt himself sway closer till his nose and face were once again nuzzling into Draco's hair. Every so often his lips would brush the tip of Draco's ear causing the blonde to shudder against him. This was so different from the times that Harry had touched his own scar.

The few times that he had, Harry had thought his own scar felt rough and ragged against his otherwise smooth skin. But Draco -- Draco's scar was something else entirely. Unlike Harry's own scar that almost puckered from his skin, the blonde's lightening bolt was smooth, almost as if it had always been there and tickled the flesh on Harry's fingertips.

Trailing the side of his fingernail against the side of the scar, Harry felt Draco shuddered in pleasure against him.

"Sensitive." Harry murmured, feeling a jerky nod against his shoulder. He nodded absentmindedly. His own scar was usually sensitive. In the winter months, his scar would feel the cold more so than the rest of his body till he could feel the outline of it against his skin.

Minutes ticked on as Harry ran his fingers over the other boy's scar again and again, feeling with each pass the boy's body shudder. Draco shuffled forward a step and Harry couldn't help but gasp, echoing Draco's own. Warm and pulsing against his thigh, he could feel the other boy. Draco's arms tightened.

"H-ha-harry" Draco moaned softly, his fingers flatting against Harry's back to slide against the Gryffindor's spine.

Harry moved his face till his lips rested gently against the boy's temple. He massaged his fingers against the boy's scar, keeping his touch feather like. Harry fought down his own loud moan when he felt Draco's hips begin to rock against him.

"Harry."

Harry pressed a kiss against the boy's temple, shifting his legs open wider till the blonde shifted between them, pressing himself firmly against Harry's own straining jeans. Draco moaned deep within his throat as his hips continued to rock.

Letting one hand drop to the boy's hip, Harry wrapped his fingers against the slim hips, using a gentle motion to encourage the boy's movements. Each press of Draco's straining flesh against him sent electrical jolts down his spine as his own soft denim rubbed against him. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he raised his own hips and began to move in rhythm with the blonde's movements.

Harry kept the pace slow, despite wishing he could just lift the other boy in his arms, lean him against the desk and just...let go.

A soft strangled noise came from between Draco's lips as they fell open against Harry's shoulder. He panted. Harry's fingers tightened against the boy's hips, pausing their motion to grind himself into Draco. Draco's fingernails dug into his back.

"H-harry..." The blonde croaked out. Harry ignored him, dropping his head further to press tiny kisses along the blonde's hair line. "Harry, I--Who's that?"

The words didn't register. "Hm?"

"Harry..." Draco was pulling away from him, his face etched with a small amount of fear, even as he wrapped his arms around his front. Harry blinked, confusion welling inside him.

/Why is he pulling away?/

"Harry...Harry, l-l-look!" Draco stuttered, jerking a hand towards something outside the window.

Harry turned his face back to the window, confusion welling. What the hell was Draco talking ab--NO!

The Gryffindor's blood rain cold as he look through the warm glass of the window and saw, none other than, his godfather, Sirius Black, staring up at the window with a look of pure shock.


	24. Chapter 23

**Author's Note**: Honestly, I didn't mean to go this long without updating (!) but thank you everyone for the reviews! They're much appreciated. :)  
Also, was anyone else seriously disappointed by the fact that they moved back the new HP movie?

* * *

**Chapter 23**

The look on his godfather's face made Harry's stomach roll dangerously as he swayed towards the glass. Draco, some how sensing the potential for danger, hobbled back a few steps till he was efficiently concealed by Harry's agile form; his eyes peering over the boy's shoulder to try to see the man's figure.

"W-w-who is he, H-harry?" Draco whispered fearfully, his body trembling against the other boys back. The soft seductive lilt in his voice from moments ago had been replaced by gut wrenching terror. It made Harry want to cry.

Swallowing against the lump in his throat, Harry continued to stare out the window, horror mounting. How could this be happening? Out of all the idiotic and stupid things Harry could have done, why oh why had he chosen to have a...moment...with Draco Malfoy right by the window on _this_ particular morning?

How could he have been so stupid...

"H-harry?"

"Get back into bed, Draco." Harry whispered tightly, throat straining out the words even as he watched the growing rage build on his godfather's face.

"B-but..." The blonde began to stutter, suddenly unsure of the turnabout in Harry's attitude. Had he done something wrong?

As if sensing the blonde's distress, Harry spared a glance back over his shoulder at wide gray eyes and gave him a wan smile. "Trust me."

The weakened Slytherin stared at him for a moment, eyes wide with fear and anxiety, before he turned and shuffled mutely back to the bed. Harry couldn't help a sigh of relief escape him even as he felt a pang for the hurt he saw there. With Draco in bed, at least he knew the blonde would be out of the line of fire if his godfather decided to do something --drastic.

Turning his gaze back to the window, the Gryffindor searched the front lawn for his godfather while listening to the sound of Draco settle in the bed. It was an easy task since the man had yet to move. The man's face was still lax with surprise but there was also a hard edge to his jaw.

/Please, Sirius. Please try to control yourself./ He thought, pressing his shaky hands to the edges of the window sill.

But that was too much to hope for, he knew. In the second that had passed, Sirius' anger and confusion had grown till a dangerous glint shown in his eyes and in the lines of his face. It was a glint that Harry had only seen once before. It could still send a shiver of dread down his spine...

That night in the shrieking shack and the events that had followed were still fresh in Harry's mind, no matter if it had been a full two years ago. Not just because he had found out the truth about his parents death and the nature of what he was up against, but because it had been the first time he had been afraid of Sirius. Really and truly afraid.

He had thought it would be the last but...

/He looks bloody furious / He thought, backing away from the window unconsciously. Never before had he felt this gut wrenching fear. It felt as though someone had dumped a bucket of frigid ice water upon him.

Not even when he had faced Voldemort had he felt this. But that was to be expected...

When he faced Voldemort, he wasn't facing a man but a murderer. He was facing the man who killed his parents and who tried to murder him in turn; He was facing a monster who didn't deserve the fear that so many held for him. But if he faced Sirius...even if just in an argument, he wasn't sure if he could win. After all, he would be facing the man that had tried to save his parents and _had_ saved him on several occasions. And that difference was enough to make Sirius more dangerous to him than he cared to admit.

Not that he wouldn't fight if Sirius tried to do something stupid like take Draco away. A glower creased his brow. His godfather may be like a father to him but Draco was...was...

/Bloody buggery.../ Harry growled at himself. This was ridiculous! Here he was, standing in the middle of his room, shaking like a idiot, plotting ways to defend himself from his _godfather_! The one man in the entire world (Dumbledore aside) that he knew would never **ever** harm him.

/He isn't even inside!/ A part of him shouted. It was true. From what Harry could see, his godfather hadn't moved more than to run a grimy hand through his disheveled hair. /You have to deal with this./

Spurring himself into motion, Harry moved to the door, pausing only long enough to give Draco a warning glance went the boy went to follow.

"Stay in here." He mumbled, forewarning the blonde of anything he might think to do. "I'll be back soon. I promise."

With that, he threw open the door and walked out, running right into his enormous cousin who had been, apparently, ease dropping on them.


	25. Chapter 24

**Chapter 24**

The fact that he was now sprawled unceremoniously on top of his squealing cousin Dudley made Harry want to heave. Not just because he could feel something sticky on Dudley's clothes clinging to his bare chest and arms _or_ because there was a tangy stench hovering over the boy that reminded Harry's of curdled milk...

No, those weren't the reasons he wanted to heave, though they both came as a damn close second. The real reason was the look he had seen on his cousin's face when he opened the door. It was a look that he wasn't very familiar with but could none-the-less recognize:

Pure and unadulterated lust.

A shudder of disgust ran through Harry as he quickly threw himself back and off his cousin, landing with a thump just inside the doorway of his room. Leaning back onto his hands to steady himself, he watched with growing repulsion while his cousin floundered wildly on the floor. Ostensibly, it seemed as if Dudley was just too chunky to be able to roll correctly so he would be able to get onto his knees. Instead he laid wailing and rocking back and forth trying to get up.

Harry grimaced. This was definitely not what he needed. /Well you know what they say...once it rains, it pours./ He thought sickened by the change of events. Just minutes ago he had been having a...what was the word?...tryst?...with Draco.

And now he was sprawled on his arse, revolted by the sight of his cousin and the knowledge that some of the gummy mess had been transferred to the smooth contours of his own torso.

/If this is what I think it is, I'm going to be sick.../ Harry thought, touching a hand to one of the sticky patches just above his breast-bone. Swallowing thickly against the bile that was slowly rising, he watched as a trail of the mess clung from his fingers to his chest.

Harry's stomach gurgled.

Taking a deep breath through his mouth (he didn't want to chance catching Dudley's scent again), Harry looked over to see that his cousin had somehow rolled to one side and was staring at him eyes wide and face red.

"I-I-I..." Dudley stuttered out. Harry scowled. Hearing his bulbous cousin try to stutter out an explanation was almost as bad as hearing his squeals. Pulling his legs in closer, Harry easily pushed himself into the standing position.

"What do you want?" He demanded. A slender thread of anger was beginning to weave its way inside him. Why the hell had Dudley been trying to...spy...on them? What had his pillock of an Uncle told them? Why would Dudley want to spy on them? And better yet, exactly how **long** had this been going on?

"Well?" He demanded again when his cousin just stared up at him. "You heard me."

Dudley just continued to stare up at him, occasionally making a gurgling sound in the back of his throat. If it would have been anyone else, Harry would have felt slightly sorry for him...

"Dudley..." Harry began but was cut off as his Aunt's shrill scream bounced off the walls. It was enough to make even his cousin yelp and Draco start so hard the bed legs scraped against the ground.

"Vernon! VERNON! HE'S DONE SOMETHING TO MY DUDLEYKINS!" Her haggish voice cried from the direction of the stairs. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Involuntarily, he took another back when he heard the shout of rage from downstairs.

/Bugger!/ He cursed mentally, even as he tried to think of what to do. If his Uncle came up here in a rage, which was more than likely, the out-come was going to be very very bad. Especially with his godfather standing just outside the house.

/He probably heard Uncle Vernon!/ He thought panicked, taking two quick steps forward to try to see if his godfather was already rampaging his way upstairs. But no, all he saw was his Uncle crash onto the second floor of the house, face white with fury.

Harry's eyes widened as his hand tightened into sweaty fists. Vernon had a look in his eyes that he knew all to well...

"Harry watch out!" A soft voice cried. Harry's head swung back around just in time to see the smug characteristic smirk on Dudley's face before one chubby leg shoot out and kicked Harry in the knee.

A spider web of pain shot through him, making his legs crumble beneath him and his eyes snap shut. His body hit the ground with a hard slap.

A hiss of pain escaped his lips as he blindly reached down to hold onto his knee. /It's broken...I know it is/

And so it was. How badly, Harry couldn't say but there was no mistaking the sickening pop that had sounded when Dudley's foot had forced it into an unnatural angle.

Already Harry could feel his knee swelling to press against the contours of his jeans and a dull ache was setting into the regions of his body that had hit the ground first. Distantly he could hear the sound of raised voices but the pain seemed to be swallowing them up as his heart beat pounded in his ears.

Dully he could feel a cool hand press against his shoulder and he forced his eyes open. Draco's ashen face was staring down at him with wide eyes, the boy's lips moving rapidly. Harry couldn't hear him.

/Oh Merlin it's not suppose to hurt this bad.../ He groaned, fingers twitching against his swollen knee. But Harry didn't have the time to wonder why the pain seemed to be amplified.

Opening his eyes--when had he closed them?--Harry stared in hazy shock as he saw an unmistakable sight:

Draco Malfoy, wand raised to the ready, chanting spells at the three people who had made his life a living hell.


	26. Chapter 25

**Author's Notes**: I won't bother spouting off excuses here, readers. You've heard them all before and I'm not going to overburden anyone with mine. Just be assured that I hadn't planned on staying gone this long but real life (and mother nature) wasn't inclinded to agree with me. Enjoy!

**Chapter 25**

It would be a complete misconception if Harry would have said he wasn't a bit intimidated by Draco. Power breathed off the boy as if it were a second skin; sucking in anything in its path into a vortex that left you breathless with anticipation.

It was potent and thrilling and made Harry's insides quiver despite the pain riddling through him. Merlin, Draco could be intoxicating like this...

"Don't move." A calm voice whispered near Harry's ear, making his head roll to the side in surprise. He had been too preoccupied with the pain and Draco to focus on anything else. Apparently someone had snuck in while he wasn't paying attention...

"Professor Lupin!?" He squeaked in surprise. There in the same musty old robes that Harry had last seen him in was his former Professor, Remus Lupin. A man he hadn't seen in nearly three years.

"What? How? When?" Harry stuttered making a twisted smile tug at the man's lips.

"Just relax Harry. I'll explain everything soon enough." The man murmured, placing a hand on Harry's shoulder to press him down again but Harry railed against him. He didn't want to go relax. He wanted answers. He wanted to help Draco...

Draco!

Rolling his head again to the other side, Harry's eyes widened in stunned disbelief. There in the doorway of the bedroom he had spent the last few years of his life in, stood the most astonishing event Harry guessed he would ever see.

Draco Malfoy and Sirius Black, wands raised, warding off his Uncle, Aunt and simpering cousin Dudley. It was mind-boggling.

"Oh god..." Harry breathed as he unthinkingly tried to move towards them. A mind numbing throb raced through his veins like ice, off setting the longing that had moments ago licked through him. The pressure from his jeans against his swollen knee was, surprisingly, easing the pain but every small pant of breath he took made it flare anew.

"I said don't move." Professor Lupin implored again. This time pressing the flat of his hand against the middle of Harry's chest to ensure that he wouldn't try to get up again.

"But Professor..." Harry started but was silenced almost instantly as a chocolate frog was shoved into his mouth.

"Here, Harry. Eat that. It'll make you feel better and I'll just..."

Harry watched wearily as his former professor pushed up the sleeves of his robes and sat back on his haunches, peering closely at the straining fabric around Harry's knee.

"Mmm...your cousin did quite a trick on this..." He muttered, more to himself than Harry. Not that Harry was going to complain...or could complain since, at the moment, he was biting off a wiggling chocolate frog leg.

Harry had never really liked chocolate frogs. Even if the chocolate did serve to make you feel better, he never did like how it wiggled all the way down. It gave him the creeps. But he ate the frog none-the-less.

He had a feeling he'd need the energy.

"All right there, Harry?" Lupin asked, taking a small respite from inspecting Harry's knee. Thank Merlin he hadn't touched it...the chocolate frog would have just come right back up from the pain.

Harry nodded. Beads of cold perspiration were gathering on his upper lip and forehead. Lupin nodded.

"Well I'm not in the same league as Poppy but..." Leaning closer till he was crouched over Harry's knee, Lupin pulled out his wand. He looked up apologetically at Harry. "I'm afraid this is going to hurt...quite a bit."

With that the man looked back down at Harry's knee and placed the tip of his wand over the swelling fabric. Harry watched in pained-fascination as a small spark of blue began to glow at the end of the man's wand, expanding slowly till it encircled Harry's entire knee. The pain began to ease.

"It doesn't hu--" Harry began but stopped short as an inferno closed around him.

Harry screamed.


	27. Chapter 26

**Author's Note**: Two things I forgot to mention in my previous author's note:

1. I'll be updating several of my other works-in-progress over the next few days/weeks.  
2. I've written several new stories, most of which won't be posted on this site due to rating and content issues, so I'm not disappearing. I'm just not posting them _here_. :)

**Chapter 26**

Harry had always viewed pain as an ethereal thing. It came upon you, did its job and went away without you being able to touch it. Taste it. Look at it. But at this very moment, if he could put a name--a face--to pain and suffering, he would have gladly taken a picture.

It laced through his entire body like a volcano erupting. Wave after wave of it coming upon him till it layered itself and hardened to stone, making an escape impossible. Making it impossible to do anything other than scream and pray that it would be over soon or that he'd just pass out or die to be away from it.

And, that was what Harry did. He screamed and babbled for someone, anyone to make it to stop; make it just go away. But, his screams only fueled the fire that was consuming him and made him jerk and thrash against the hands that were trying to hold him down. Keep him close to the pain.

"Let me go! Let me go! Oh god please--!" Harry sobbed, his body jerking as large hands pressed against his chest. "Please! "

His screams and pleas of mercy seemed to fall on deaf ears. The person holding him down only held him tighter; pressing down so forcefully that Harry would have bruises afterwards. Harry continued to scream, louder still as the splinter of pain shattered to travel up from his knee to his thigh then to his spine.

Harry jerked again, a choked sob and babbled words spilling from his lips as he tried to make them understand the pain needed to stop. It didn't.

"Please!" The hands held him firmer even as Harry heard a buzz of something --someone?--there. Someone speaking to him but the pain was there clouding the way and he couldn't make it out. He didn't care. He just wanted it to stop.

Harry choked again on a sob. There was only one thing he could do. Only one thing that he _knew_ would make all of this go away. Only one way he could get those hands off his body.

"**DRACO**!" Harry screamed, his back arching of the ground till just his shoulders pressed again the hard wood floor. "**HELP ME!**"

He slumped back down, back smacking smartly against the floor. Mere seconds later another scream, high-pitched and ragged like a wounded animal, tore through him as bright flashes sparked behind his eyelids. "**Draco...Draco...help...me**!"

The pain was overwhelming him now. It was making his body writher and prickle. Energy plucked at him as if he were a bow, tugging him to odd angles before dropping him back down.

He was choking on the pain. Why couldn't he just pass out? Why couldn't the pain just stop?

Cool hands jerked the others away fiercely and hauled Harry's shaking body up and against an even cooler chest. The pain ebbed.

Harry gave a strangled sob and reached out blindly for whoever was saving him. For whomever was grounding him in a reality where the pain was just an echo. The coolness and the person were chasing away the pain as if in victory.

Nimble fingers carded through his sodden locks and rubbed his chest and stomach reassuringly. A soft voice whispered in his ears words that he couldn't quite catch the meaning of but all the same comforted him.

"Shh...I'm here. Right here. It's over now. It's over. I'm here. I won't leave...I'm here..." The presence murmured, even as there was a touch of something --terror?--beneath.

The mantra continued till his breathing slowed and his body ached in all the ways he never knew it could. Exhaustion swept in, making a small sigh escape his trembling lips and his body curl closer to the delicious coolness of the other's skin.

"Hmm...Draco..." He croaked, his head lolling back against a sinewy shoulder even as his throat and chest burned with exhaustion. A cool shaking hand brushed against his cheek, wiping the rolling sweat and tears away.

"I'm here, Harry." The other boy assured, giving a light squeeze to enforce his words. Harry sighed.

It felt as though someone had set his chest on fire as he sucked in breath. His throat burned from overuse. His entire body shook.

Fatigue like never before was beginning to make his limbs heavy and eyelids heavier. /I wonder if he'd let me stay here all night.../ He wondered even as he felt another presence come closer.

Gathering his remaining strength, Harry forced his eyes to open and stared out hazily. He could just make out the shadows of his godfather and former professor. Licking his lips and praying to anyone who would listen, he shifted up.

Automatically his self-imposed pillow wrapped comforting arms around his waist and helped his scoot till his head and back were cradled against Draco's chest.

Even the small amount of movement sent uncomfortable shock waves through his body, reminiscent to the pain.

"Thank you." He murmured tiredly. His response was a cool hand intertwining with his own and a nervous kiss across his hair. /Oh. That's nice./ His sluggish mind thought as his eyes slipped close again.

All he wanted to do was sleep. It seemed a century since the last time he had had a real and true lay down. But fate, it seemed, had other plans...

"Harry? Harry, you need to wake up." A scratchy voice said. A small shake was given to the foot of his good leg but he flinched away anyhow. Draco's body tensed behind him.

"Don't touch him."

Harry, even with exhaustion flowing into him, felt a glow of--pride?-- when the blonde's voice came out strong and sure. Apparently the challenge and use of magic had invigorated the Slytherin. Harry snorted softly, eyes slipping closed again briefly.

/Doesn't it just figure? Put a wand in his hand and let a bit of a challenge face him and he's right as rain. What a Malfoy thing to do./

"--listening to me?"

"Hmm?" Harry said, blinking owlishly. He heard his godfather angry sigh.

"What did you do to him, Remus? The boy's barely coherent!"

Harry wanted to snort again but it would have taken too much energy.

"I didn't do anything! Well...I mean I _did_ but it wasn't supposed to hurt _that_ badly!"

Harry was now staring at Draco's...hand?...in hopes that his vision would become clearer. He didn't want to hear his godfather and Lupin fight. It was the last thing he needed and the only thing he did not want.

/What do you want?/ His tired mind prompted as it cut out the two man's bickering. Abruptly, Draco shifted behind him till Harry could see the boy's legs curl around the outside of his own.

/Don't even go there./ He thought, squeezing his eyes shut as a shiver of need raced down his tired spine. It didn't go unnoticed by Draco.

"Harry?" The boy's smoky voiced whispered against his ear, making an almost inaudible gasp escape his lips. Thank Merlin the other two men were too preoccupied to notice.

Harry made a questioning noise in the back of his throat, to tired and weary to actually try using his voice again just yet, as he watched Draco's hand closer. It was fidgeting every now and again over the flesh of his stomach causing his muscles to ripple.

"D-don't ever do that to me again." Draco stuttered for Harry's ear alone. Warmth spread through the gryffindor at Draco's stutter. The boy only did that when he was afraid...

/Afraid of losing me./ He hoped silently. Turning his head, Harry stared into gray eyes that were a touch to wide-eyed to be normal. Harry mustered a soft smile, the small movement making his eyes slip close in compensation even as he lifted an exhausted hand to caress the boy's cheek.

"I won't." He whispered back even as everything began to fade.


End file.
